Mountains Are Tall, Rivers Are Long
by Kite
Summary: *sequel to We Are the Night--COMPLETE* Two years after Lili (OFC) graduates from Hogwarts, Voldemort begins to suspect foul play within the ranks. Snape and Lili's secrets are in danger of being discovered: and war is coming...
1. Prologue

A/N: Hello, hello. The further journeys of Lili begin. This is the sequel to _We Are the Night_, so, if you don't want to be _too_ lost, it might be a good idea to read that one first. But you can muddle through this one alone, if you like…

To catch you up, well, a little: Elizabeth Lee, who was given the nickname Lili, attended a Chinese wizarding school for six years (Zhong Mo Xue) due to her father's personal commitments. Her father is overjoyed to return to England for Lili's seventh year as her entire family has always graduated from Hogwarts and she can now carry on the tradition. Surprisingly, though all Lees have previously been Ravenclaws, Lili is sorted into Slytherin. She finds the house less horrible than expected and makes many friends, including among them Draco Malfoy. Slytherin politics are more, however, than she bargained for, and things get, erm, out of hand. Lili calls on Snape's help, but he can do little. Bad things happen; I'll say no more in case you actually decide to read the previous story…And I'll say it again, you _should_ read it if you want to read this one.

A few other notes. This is actually just the prologue (although I'm sure you might have figured that out, you smarties!) and will be the last bit of Lili's time at Hogwarts. (As a student. Ahem.) After this, the rest of the story will take place a little more than two years in the future. The next chapter will actually be out fairly soon (I've already written it and part of chapter 2), but I want to drag y'all for as many reviews as I can…*wink* 

As for the title, all shall be made clear…

As always, imagine I wrote a disclaimer here that said (and very cleverly) something to the effect of how I own none of these characters (well, I do own some but, uh, not the most interesting ones) and I'm certainly not making any money. (trust me on this one…)

Now, on with the show…. 

Mountains Are Tall, Rivers Are Long By Kite Prologue 

The fireplace was stacked with gray ash, dead, black marble serpents curling up towards the mantel, still and rigid. She stared through their emerald-inset eyes, stroking the large bat asleep in her lap. 

Almost everyone had long been asleep: a few were still in Hogsmeade celebrating graduation. Around her, the common room seemed to slumber, suspended in air, thick and silent.

Lili had nothing to celebrate. For the last five months, Hogwarts had been her sanctuary; it had been the only thing standing between her and a lonely and dangerous game for which she felt ill-prepared. Artibius turned in her lap and, though her mouth was weighed down by a frown that had seemed irreversible, she smiled at the soft purring noise he made snuggling against her thigh.

She couldn't find much to smile about these days. She was headed for Malfoy Manor in the morning—a place that, for her, held few good memories --and, no doubt also held the beginnings of that danger. She was too tired to be afraid.

Behind her, the stone rolled away from the common room entrance and several of the late partiers tromped in, laughing and singing. Footsteps approached the back of her chair.

"Lili? Are you still awake?" Draco's pale face popped around the edge of her armchair, gray eyes glowing with revelry and butterbeer. 

Lili turned from the black serpents, forcing a smile. "Yes. I couldn't sleep."

The lines of joy in his face crashed into concern. "Are you still feeling bad? It's a shame to get ill on graduation night: we turned that town upside down." He elbowed her lightly, looking impish.

She turned away again, this time finding the gray ash that littered the hearth. "Yes, I'm feeling a bit better. I wish I could have come as well."

Draco nodded, standing to his full height. Lili allowed herself to look over him—a sideways glance. He had changed little over the few months, except to get slightly taller and fill out a bit more in the shoulders. He was certainly the most handsome boy at Hogwarts, at least as far as Lili was concerned. And he knew it, of course.

"Well, our loss," he said, laying a hand briefly on her shoulder before, feeling awkward, he drew it away again. "Dia missed you terribly."

Her heart turned a little. "Oh, well, three's company, you know? I figured you two would want to celebrate alone anyway." Draco and Dia had been seeing each other for almost two months now. Lili told herself and the two of them that it didn't matter: it wasn't as if she and Draco had been engaged. But she knew, even if she refused to admit it to herself, that part of her ached every time she saw Dia's hand laced with his or whenever Draco chose the seat closest to Dia when, before, he had always found a place at her side. 

But, she reminded herself, it didn't matter. Even if she and Draco had been passionately in love –which they hadn't-- nothing could have come of it. The world pushed them away from all sides—indeed, it pushed her away from everyone. There was only one person she clung to, and after tonight…

Her throat felt almost as dry as the gray ash littering the floor.

"Well, we missed you anyway," Draco said, through an elaborate yawn. "We'll have to go out and celebrate together once we're all on the Manor. Dia's agreed to stay with us as well."

_God have mercy on her soul_, was Lili's first thought. It was followed quickly by the distinct churning of her stomach she'd come to associate with that gray fortress called Malfoy Manor. While Dia was her friend, the idea of having to face Lucius Malfoy _and_ the constantly starry-eyed lovers made her body fall even more heavily into the seat, determined never get up. "That's wonderful." She was surprised at how good she'd become at saying one thing and feeling another. He had taught her very well.

There was a second of silence, and Draco understood what it meant. Lili had used that moment of silence for the last five months, letting people know when she wanted to be alone. 

"Well, I think I'll go on up to bed," he said, yawning again. "It's awfully late. You should head up soon. We leave early tomorrow."

_Yes,_ she thought, stroking Artibius gently._ A little _too_ early for my tastes_. "Good night."

Draco's steps pattered away, and the common room grew quiet again, rolling back into its slumber.

She was tired of thinking but knew she wouldn't sleep. Indeed, the dark circles under her eyes were growing more difficult to conceal. She had used Dreamless Sleep Potions several times now, but it always left her feeling groggy and somewhat distant in the morning: --two things she couldn't afford if she was to find herself on Malfoy Manor the next day.

Artibius groaned and lifted his small head, bleary eyes barely open. He clicked a slow question. 

She reached down, lifting a heavy hand and petting his horned nose softly.

"It's getting late, Miss Lee."

She knew the voice but didn't turn. Artibius woke fully now, looking up at the thin and shadowed behind her chair, distrust sparkling in his eyes. He chirped angrily and flew away, disappearing into the corridor that led to Lili's room.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, with a sigh, still not bothering to turn her head. She could feel his long-fingered hands wrap around the top of the armchair. "I was too excited." 

He snorted softly, and she knew he'd caught the sarcasm. He had taught her that, too.

"I'll send several vials of Dreamless Sleep with you tomorrow," he said, running his fingers along the smooth fabric of the armchair. 

"Thank you, Professor." She swallowed, rolling her thick, dry tongue around her mouth. She wasn't sure how many times she'd thanked him in the last five months: however many times, it hadn't been enough.

"The Headmaster wants to speak with you." 

Now she turned. He seemed unusually tall, looming behind her, looking down his crooked nose. "What, right now? It's almost one in the morning."

"He thought this would be the safest hour." Slow, robes rustling, he moved to the side of her chair, letting his eyes rest on the dead fireplace. "No one will see you going up."

She swallowed, vaguely noting the somewhat stale scent of spice that always seemed to linger in his robes. _Of course. Strategy. Planning. Caution_. It should be her mantra. 

"Oh, yes." She watched his eyes, as flat as those black, marble serpents'. They were inscrutable: an odd occurrence as, over the last five months, Lili had learned to read him, even through his stony mask. He was hiding something; something she hadn't seen from him before. She wondered at it vaguely, deciding it was, most likely, worry. "I'll go up to see him immediately." She stood.

But she didn't go immediately. She remained by his side, watching the ashes, rooted in place by heavy thoughts. She had spent the last five months down in the dungeons, learning how to live this life she had agreed to. He was known as a cold and cruel teacher of Potions, but he was even more severe in those late-night lessons, talking about the politics of the Circle, ways to avoid suspicion, to receive praise and trust. He taught her what not to say or do, and what, by all means, she _must_ do.  He had even gone with her to the Ministry, stood by her while they decided whether to take her into custody or allow her to act as a double agent. He and Dumbledore had argued for her, and after, Snape had seemed relieved, as if it was _he _who'd been reprieved. No word was ever spoken, but it became understood—in public, Snape treated as he always had, and she pretended to hate helping him with potions at night. But in truth, he was her only true confidant, save her pet bat, Artibius, and her old painted friend, Hui-neng. He had taught her how to play the spy—but he had also kept her from giving over to the fear that now tickled at her heart. She looked up at him, trying to take in all the details of his face. After tonight, she was on her own. It was unlikely she would ever see him again, outside of Death Eater functions, and there she could only antagonize him; something he'd tried to teach her with little success.

Slowly, as if feeling her green gaze pressing on him, he turned towards her, pale face shadowed and loose in a frown. "Are you ready, Miss Lee?"

She wanted to scream and to cry and to throw herself to the floor telling him she wasn't ready—that she wouldn't _ever_ be. But she had learned to stopper her emotions many months before. "Yes, as ready as I can be, thank you."

He turned his gaze back, eyes twinkling from distant torchlight. Something in his face betrayed him, and, for a moment she knew that he, too, was quite nervous. His breaths were deep and forced, nostrils flaring. "Well, you should go to the Headmaster." His voice, on the other hand, remained as crisp and cool as ever: another trick he'd passed on to her.

She nodded. "Yes." _There's no more putting it off, Lili,_ she told herself, pressing her dry lips together and balling her fists in an attempt to ignore the frantic tapping of her heart. _It's time to say goodbye and step out on your own…_

Her feet carried her away, without further consulting her brain. Her heart had been disconnected for the moment.

"Miss Lee?" His voice echoed off the stone walls.

She stopped for a moment. "Professor?"

He stood, still a vague, shadowy form framed by unmoving black serpents. "Good luck."

Not trusting her voice, she merely nodded, allowing the stone to roll aside and reveal the darkness of the halls beyond. She exited.

********************

"Ahh, Miss Lee; please do come in." 

Dumbledore was in his pajamas, tattered blue cotton with silver stars. He wore a starched night-cap, fluffy white pom-pom dangling at the top. Most noticeably, however, were his thick woolen socks, bright red and embroidered with an elaborate, gold-threaded 'D'. Lili, even through her fatigue, couldn't help but feel the idea of a grin tugging at her mouth.

She entered the office and made for her usual seat at his desk. She stopped a moment to wonder at Fawkes who was in quite a sorry state. He was drooping and almost featherless, squawking at her pitifully. 

"Would you like some warm milk?" Dumbledore asked, gesturing to a full cup on his desk. She drank it all in one gulp, feeling the heat pour down her throat and settle heavy and relaxing in her stomach. Her muscles unwound, and she sank low into the chair.

"I see you've noticed Fawkes," he said, sitting down and sipping at a cup of milk himself. He glanced over at the phoenix, shaking his head. "He's desperately in need of a good burning, if you ask me, but he keeps refusing…" He paused a moment, and Lili knew he was arranging his words. She spoke to Dumbledore rarely, but, in all of their conversations, she had noticed the cautious manner of his speech: it was the same way he spoke with Snape. "Well, Miss Lee, I'm sorry for the late hour but, of course, certain precautions must be taken."

She examined her empty cup, nodding. "No, it's no trouble. I couldn't sleep anyway."

This bit of information, while seeming to trouble him slightly, did not seem to surprise him. "Yes, well, I'll be brief," he said, clearing his throat and sitting back, staring at her over half-moon spectacles. "I hear that you will be staying on Malfoy Manor for some time…?"

The last thing she wanted to think about, of course. She swallowed, clinking the cup down on his desk lightly. "Uh—yes, actually. I have nowhere to live, so Mister Malfoy has offered to let me stay there until I can find a job and scrape up enough money to afford a place of my own." Her mind objected, unwilling to think on the subject anymore. She blinked long, trying to quiet it.

"And, for reasons I can certainly understand, you're slightly nervous about the prospect." 

In front of anyone else she would never have admitted it, but Dumbledore radiated a warmth which put her more at ease. His fingers were steepled, lips pursed, but above his long, white beard, the corners of a warm smile rose. Lili had learned over the last five months just why Snape had found it easier to come to Dumbledore so many years ago. "Well, yes, a bit, I suppose."

Dumbledore considered this a moment before continuing. He kept his eyes on Lili, gaze still twinkling blue over his crooked nose. She couldn't help wondering where this was going. 

At length, he sighed, and leaned back again, folding his hands in his lap and smoothing at his pajamas gently. "Well, it seems the Ministry has recently been in need of a greater number of potions researchers; you can imagine why. I received an owl today saying you had been recommended and accepted. You can start in a week precisely." 

Despite the warm milk sitting heavy in her stomach, her insides took a jolting leap. "Potions research? At the Ministry?" Her brain, which had been lulled in melancholy, suddenly buzzed with life. 

"Yes," he said, sipping his milk before continuing. "Researching new formulas to counter-act or alleviate the effects of dark curses. It should be, from what Professor Snape has told me, right up your alley."

He had no idea, she thought to herself softly, wishing her tired limbs would still allow her to leap up and dance around the room. It was good news: something that had become all too foreign to her. "Yes, yes, it's _wonderful_. I can't believe it."

Dumbledore's smile made her heart's joy redouble. 

"That means I'll only have to stay with the Malfoys until I can make enough money to find and rent a flat," she said, astonished. Her limbs were tingling, and she leaned forward towards Dumbledore, beaming. "That's marvelous."

But Dumbledore only grinned harder. "Oh, well, it has also come to my attention that a Miss Olivia Birch, a former student here at Hogwarts, was in dire need of a flat mate." His eyes were twinkling at her madly now, his lips pursed with happiness at the word 'was.' "It seems she would be more than happy to have you share her flat, which is quite near the Ministry, luckily enough."

Lili couldn't believe her ears and actually reached down and pinched herself to make certain she wasn't simply dreaming a cruel dream. 

She wasn't. "A flat? Near the Ministry?"

"Yes," he confirmed, nodding. "Miss Birch, who graduated just last year, is currently in auror training at the Ministry. She was a Gryffindor prefect: but I suppose you wouldn't have known her. She's agreed to let you move in tomorrow and your first three months' rent has already been paid."

She was shaken by a sudden jolt of conflict as she realized just how odd and potentially dangerous a choice of flat mates this had been. However, anything was better than Malfoy Manor, where she wouldn't have been free from danger either. She smiled despite herself and leaned forward even farther, overcome with the desire to embrace the grinning wizard before her. "Oh, Headmaster, that's wonderful! Thank you, thank you so much. I—I don't know what to say." She wrung her hands together fiercely, unable to decide on a way adequate enough to thank him. 

"I'm glad you approve, Miss Lee," he said, standing and moving across the room to a pitcher that sat beside the tattered Sorting Hat on a shelf. "But you needn't thank me."

She shook her head vehemently. "No, really, Headmaster. You don't understand the worry you've saved me. I--"

"No, Miss Lee," he interrupted. "You misunderstand me. You needn't thank _me_. It wasn't _my_ doing."

Her insides jerked backwards with the inertia of surprise: she had learned the hard way to be wary of all gifts from sources unknown. "Not your doing?" she asked, lips parted, wrung hands separating. "Whose then?" 

"Oh, Miss Lee, you're quite clever," he said, tipping the pitcher and refilling her cup. "I think you can guess."

But she was, like a good Slytherin, already three steps ahead. "Professor Snape."

It was at this moment that Fawkes chose to erupt in a burst of flames, and both Dumbledore and Lili jumped. The fire crackled and leapt and, after a time, abated, revealing a small pile of ashes on the floor. She and the Headmaster exchanged wide-eyed glances, both smiling and trying to calm down after the shock. "He always picks the _worst _moments to do that," Dumbledore complained, shaking his head. "Quite a sense of humor, that bird." 

Lili smiled, heart still hammering. Humor _indeed_.

Settling back, Dumbledore poured himself another cup of milk before continuing. "Yes, Professor Snape," he sighed, taking a long draw. "He recommended you to the Ministry for the potions position and it was also there he heard Olivia Birch was seeking a flat mate. He made arrangements through third parties, of course, and paid her the rent." Dumbledore yawned, stretching. "I think you'll also find, if I'm any judge of Severus, that he furnished the place quite nicely as well."

Lili took the cup from his desk and gulped it again, wishing it were something stronger. "He—he did all that?" she said, squeezing the porcelain cup hard. _So he's still protecting you, Lili_, she thought, feeling her heart creak painfully in her chest. And what's more, he wasn't even there to receive her thanks—and she would be unable to offer them after tonight…

The cup was still warm in her hands, and she squeezed it harder to feel the heat. "Why wouldn't he have told me himself?" 

Dumbledore stood, yawning again, and walked around the desk to stand in front of her. Though his eyes glittered with the vibrancy of a young man's his body was bowed with age, and Lili wondered just how old he really was. He leaned back on his desk, smiling as if she was an old friend, twinkling blue straight at her. "By now, Miss Lee, I would imagine you know Severus quite well. Can you see him telling you about all this?"

It was an excellent point, she had to admit. Snape had been embarrassed enough giving her a gift the previous Christmas, and that had turned out to be books. A gift of this magnitude—well, Lili understood that having her thank him anymore would probably drive him to a blushing death. She nodded. "I—I just can't believe he'd do all that. For me."

Dumbledore's smile widened and, finishing the last of his milk, he let out a strange half-sigh, half-yawn. "It shouldn't surprise you at all. Severus, well, he's a complex man, I'm sure you know; but he's certainly not lacking in generosity to those, well..." His twinkling eyes seemed to grow, for a moment, quite serious. "To those he respects. And it has been some time since he's had anyone to be generous to. You know, he didn't want me to tell you that he'd arranged all this, Miss Lee, but I think you need to be told. As much as he's done for you, you've done wonders for him as well. Severus needs someone in his world; he needs a mission, my dear—and you've been that person, at least for the last few months. I think, in a strange way, you have become his only true friend."

The cup wavered in her hands, and she scrambled to catch it before it hit the floor. To associate the word "friend" with Professor Snape seemed as absurd as putting the words "A-" and Hermione Granger in the same sentence. Not, of course, that she hadn't hoped for it. She had come to depend on the Potions Master; and if the word "friend" in relation to his arched eyebrows and tutting lips hadn't made her feel so uncomfortable, she probably would have agreed with Dumbledore as well. But she knew Snape well enough to understand that the Potions Master didn't have "friends," especially among his students. Snape had people he hated, people he disliked, people he tolerated, and people he taught—but friends, well, even if she wanted to use the word, his cool scowl wouldn't allow it.

 She stood, trying to force her mind not to think on it anymore. 

"I think I'd better get to bed then," she said, laying the empty glass on his desk and meeting the old wizard's eyes. A long unfamiliar feeling of joy was churning in her stomach. "It sounds as if I've got a lot to do tomorrow." 

Dumbledore's twinkled at her once more and then reached out to embrace her. This act came easily to Dumbledore, and he thought little of it. Lili, on the other hand, remained rigid, unaccustomed to such shows of affection. 

When he released her, she smiled, trying to hide her shock. "Thank you for all your help this last year, Headmaster. I've had such wonderful people helping me—I don't know how to thank them." 

The blue explosion over those half-moon spectacles softened, and he laid a gnarled hand lightly on her shoulder. "You go out and be careful—do your best to lead a happy life, and that will be the thanks I need." He gave her shoulder a light squeeze before letting it go. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I must return to my bed where, I believe my eyes require a bit of their nightly inspection. I'm already quite far behind. Good night, Miss Lee. And good luck."

Lili nodded, glancing quickly at the piles of ashes sitting on the floor before exiting.

_Ahh, to perform such simple resurrection, _she thought to herself, as the door closed behind her. She wondered if she would ever be able to rise, new and beautiful and pure from the gray shadows she had resigned to dwell in.  

Every limb was heavy with the need for sleep, and she was barely able to make her way down the first of the long, winding staircases. She glanced at a tall clock to her left that, in the torchlight, cast a rather long and eerie shadow across her feet. 

_3:18_. She would have to wake extra early in the morning to tell Draco about the change in plans and to be sure all her luggage could be marked for her own pick-up rather than for the Malfoys' driver. 

No, it wouldn't be much sleep, she thought, sighing, but at least she would be able to sleep at all. And perhaps, after so much unexpected good news, she could look forward to pleasant dreams: dreams of a future that, even now, she felt more ready to face.    

She walked through those dark Hogwarts corridors, taking in every painting and suit of armor for the last time.


	2. Lang and Granger

_Chapter One:_ Lang and Granger

The sun had barely risen, golden fingers beginning to slip over what shadows of night still remained. The gentle blue and pink of the sky hinted at what could be the start of an altogether pleasant day, breeze tickling the tall and blossoming trees that stood outside the Ministry of Magic. Along the streets, shopkeepers were just opening their doors, stepping out on to pavement with wide smiles.

But, in this particular room, not a speck of the soft morning sun eked through, concrete walls stern and thick far below the ground. The trees, the shopkeepers, the sky: they could have vanished and Lili would never have known, smothered in the gray tomb. 

"Nothing," Lili insisted for the third time, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. She fiddled with the nameplate that sat on the steel desk; --the only bit of decoration in the room. "I told you, he hasn't said _anything_." Her fingers traced the cold-cut block letters absent-mindedly. A-g-e-n-t-L-a-n-g. She yawned, eyes watering from fatigue.

The man opposite her, tapping a quill against some parchment, seemed to wilt, sighing. His robes hung as boring and bare as the room itself, dark, brown hair cut straight across his forehead. It was the stern, arranged sort of face one might have expected in a room like this. "How can he have said nothing? We lost Alex Silver last night: you didn't hear _anything_ about it?"

She thought about the name for a moment: it was the name of a Ministry worker, but she was unable put a face with it. She paused a moment, wondering how it might have happened, who might have done it, but Marcus Lang's gray eyes snagged her and cut that line of thought short. "No, I haven't heard anything. All he's had for us lately are, well, 'pep-talks' I suppose you could call them. Reminding us what our purpose is, reminding us where our loyalties should lie. He keeps talking of a grand war, great battles, but, not any differently than he's always spoken of them. And I certainly haven't heard anything specific. In fact, I don't think I've heard the name Alex Silver except through people in the Research Labs."

Marcus' lips were flat and stony. He continued to tap the quill in a very steady and lulling beat, a tic Lili had learned to associate with his frustration. "And you're sure he hasn't said anything, even hinted? You haven't forgotten anything…even something that might have seemed insignificant at the time?"

"The day I start to forget things," Lili said, gloomily, "you can light my funeral pyre and throw me on it." 

Marcus ignored the biting tone; he, Lili supposed, had learned that this was _her_ indication of frustration.

"And he couldn't have been speaking obliquely? You know, in metaphors or something?"

She let out a heavy sigh, not feeling up to Marcus' first degree so early on this particular morning. She had gotten little sleep the night before and still had a full day of work to look forward to. "Look, Marcus, I've been doing this for two years now. I think I would have caught anything important, don't you?"

He considered this a moment, then nodded curtly. "Yes; I just can't believe you've heard _nothing_."

Lili nodded: it had been troubling her as well. For almost two years she had stood in the inner circle, and, keeping her ears open, she had heard many helpful tidbits. But for the last two weeks, Voldemort's slit lips had remained tight—he said nothing but _did_ a great deal. "You know, if you were to ask me my suspicions," Lili said, leaning back and rubbing at her tense neck roughly. "I'd say he's planning something; something he doesn't trust all of us with."

A spark lit in Marcus' eyes, and he sat up, stiff. "What do you mean? Planning what?"

"Well I don't know, Marcus," she snapped, shaking her head. "But something's going on; I can feel it whenever I look in his eyes. It's something big, and he's been planning it for some time." She remembered the way his red gaze had trembled across them the previous night, searching, guarded. "Of course, I don't have any proof: and I've no idea what it could be." She sighed. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

"Too late if you don't start hearing things," he said, leaning forward and scrawling something before returning the quill to its steady rhythm. "Has he said anything to you personally?"

It wasn't something she enjoyed remembering, but she swallowed and nodded. "Yes. He spoke to me last night about my progress in teaching some of the others _bumozhang_."

His eyebrow raised, the sort of uniform curve that made his features seem even more crisp and severe. "And?"

She sighed, trying to banish Voldemort's face from her mind's eye, his flaring nostrils and flapping lips still causing her heart to thunder slightly. "I told him they had made some progress, but that they were somewhat less skilled than I would have liked. I told him I wondered if some of them were trying as hard as they might. He just nodded and dismissed me. He seemed very disturbed by the idea." 

Marcus gave her a tilted smile; even his grin remained a straight line. 

"Of course, they would learn much faster," Lili said through a yawn, "if I was teaching them properly." She couldn't help remembering the down-fallen look in Voldemort's red eyes when she had told him this—it seemed as if he'd almost expected it. A cold feeling rose through her, but she stifled it with one deft motion of her mind. _Forget it, Lili_. She had learned not to linger on facial expressions or words for too long: after a time, they could be read to mean anything.

Marcus leaned forward, abandoning the quill and rubbing the heels of his hands in his eyes. He looked very tired, and Lili wondered if he got as little sleep as she. The Department of Mysteries never slept, or so she was told. 

_Then_, she mused,_ it was the perfect place for her_. She yawned again.

He sighed at length, and met her eyes with as much affability as he could muster. It was no great secret that she and the other double agents were looked upon with a certain amount of distrust. _Distrust and revulsion_, she reminded herself with a frown. Snape had told her it would be that way: as always, he had been right. 

"Okay," he said, picking up the quill again and scribbling something more. "You can go. But you'll report back here in two days at least—and sooner if you hear any news."

"Of course," she grumbled, standing. Her muscles, stiff, yearned to stretch. Raising her hands high and straightening her back, she obliged them. The idea of work was not wholly unpleasant, but the idea of a bed was sweeter. "I'll report to you the same time in two days, I expect. I don't think Voldemort will unfold any great plans before then."

His eyes were fixed on the parchment before him now, cold and gray. "Never mind what you think; just be sure and keep your eyes and ears open."

She nodded, trying to ignore the sudden chill in his voice.

"Oh, and Miss Lee." 

She paused, hand on the cold door handle, tall guards flanking her, waiting to escort her out. "Hmm?"

He stopped scribbling a moment and looked up, frown deeply etched in his bronzed face. "Has it occurred to you that Voldemort has said nothing to you lately because you've lost his trust?" 

Lili felt the beginning of a smile, catching the bit of trepidation in his voice. He did not enjoy confronting her on anything, and, usually, with good reason. If there was one thing Snape had taught her, it was how to bat others down like flies. It had started as a useful skill and developed into quite a habit.

She smirked. "Nothing occurs to you, Marcus, that has not already occurred to me, and at least three days earlier."

_Yes, quite a habit_.

She pulled open the door and allowed the black-clad guards to lead her out, watching her with that distrust and revulsion she had learned to ignore.

****************************

"I _need_ that Venus root." Lili tapped the spoon on the cauldron's lip, watching the potion bubble a frantic blue. 

Her partner was bent over, digging through a low cabinet. "Uh, where is it?"

Lili cursed. "Oh, honestly, Miss Granger, how long have you been working here?! The third cupboard, on the left. I told you, I moved it there yesterday because it should go with the other roots…"

Hermione shot her a poisonous look, but moved over to the third cupboard just the same. 

For a long while, the young woman had insisted Lili not call her 'Miss Granger': after all, she pointed out—they were the same age and colleagues as well.

After two years, they didn't even discuss it anymore.

Hermione handed her the root. 

A short pause was filled only with the sound of the hissing fire and the churning potion. "Miss Granger, this is _green_," she snapped, shaking it in front of the other woman's eyes, accusing. 

"I know! Venus root!" Hermione insisted, throwing up her hands and pushing the plant  from her face. "What did you expect? Am I to be blamed for the color of Venus root now?" The blue bubbling of the cauldron mixed with the furious red in her cheeks, causing her skin to look slightly purple.

Lili drew herself tall, though she remained several inches shorter than Hermione. "Venus root, Miss Granger, is green when it is too young. Mature root is _always_ greenish-brown." 

If there was one thing that really chaffed Hermione, it was being corrected. She rolled her eyes, snatching the offending root from Lili's hand. "I've been using that Venus root for the last three months, and everything I've made has turned out fine." She threw the root in and glared back at Lili, flat and defiant.

There was a short, dangerous silence, and any on-looker might have feared impending violence. 

Finally, however, Lili turned back to the cauldron, flat-lipped. "Yes, well, if by 'fine' you mean as foul-tasting as the vomit-flavored variety of Bertie Bott's," she sighed, stirring the root in with a frown, "then by all means, you're potions must be the _finest_ anyone has ever had the misfortune to ingest." 

Hermione turned away, bending down to close the lower cabinet and visibly trying to control her frustration. They had been at each other's throats more than usual today, and mostly, Lili admitted to herself, because she was still somewhat uneasy after her meeting with Marcus that morning. Not that it would have been much different on a good day: she and Hermione didn't get on—or, at least, Lili wouldn't allow them to. 

Hermione stood again, looking more composed. "Well, why don't we just add a pinch of morning glory. That should solve the taste problem."

Lili merely nodded, as she always did when Hermione was right. And Hermione was right quite often, though Lili would never tell her so. 

It was really a shame, she thought, and not for the first time. Had she and Hermione met under different circumstances, a working relationship might at least have been possible. They had a good deal in common, though Lili wasn't particularly eager to admit it, double agent or not. The girl certainly knew her potions, even if her knowledge was somewhat sketchier than Lili's. 

The last two years, however, had been filled with many such heated exchanges. No one had bothered telling her that Snape had also recommended Hermione for a position in Potions Research. In fact, no one had told Hermione herself: the young woman still believed the recommendation had come from Dumbledore. Hermione probably wouldn't have believed the truth anyway. 

Though it might have surprised anyone else, Lili understood the Potion Master's thinking. While Lili found it likely he hated Hermione and the company she kept; while he probably found her annoying and arrogant—the archetypal Gryffindor—Snape still respected one thing: her marks. He always understood that Hermione knew her stuff, even if she _did _flaunt it about as perversely as Pansy Parkinson had flaunted her padded C-cup all seventh year. He knew she would be able to do the job better than many of his more favored—well, less hated—Slytherins. So, the recommendation.

And Hermione would never know and thus never try to show him any gratitude.  _Just_, she decided, _as Snape would have liked it_.

While having to force enmity every day was slightly frustrating, Hermione had also provided her with excellent cover. Every time she managed to make a breakthrough in her work, she carefully and deliberately attributed it to Hermione. The Dark Lord, she knew, kept a close eye on all his followers. It would certainly look suspicious if one of his most faithful Death Eaters started formulating potions to counter the Shapeless Dread or the Razor's Edge; so, with every step forward, she quietly wrote Hermione's name down in the record. 

And soon, she mused, her partner would be promoted. Which was, once again, for the best. 

She reminded herself of this again and again.

The potion began to smell strongly of mold, and Lili winced, drawing back. 

"Smells ready," Hermione muttered, pinching in a few morning glory pedals for good measure.

Lili frowned, bending down to extinguish the fire, certain not to breathe through her nose. "Get the vials."  

Carefully, she dipped one of the vials Hermione produced into the liquid, blue sizzling against her dragonhide gloves. It steamed, smoke billowing and clouding the glass. 

She eyed it suspiciously: the texture wasn't what it should be, and the color was rather dull. The immature Venus root had, she suspected, reacted nastily with the monkshood, resulting in a potion which would cause a severe but only temporary burning in the lungs and stomach. _But how to be sure… _

Her eyes met Hermione's with a twinkle.

"Drink this, Miss Granger," she said simply, pushing it towards the bushy-haired young woman. "I don't know if I feel like tasting one of your 'fine' potions just now."

But Hermione merely scowled back, looking between the vial and Lili coolly. "Oh come on, Lili. I can tell a bad potion just as well as you can."

Lili arched an eyebrow.

"Something must have reacted with the monkshood," she continued, taking the vial from Lili and pouring it down a nearby sink. "It would burn terribly—you know that as well as I."

"Yes, I do," Lili said, revving up for the words to come. "And since that 'something' was your immature Venus root, I thought you should reap the benefits of a job poorly done. It's usually the Aurors who have that privilege."

Hermione's shoulders raised and her muscles visibly tensed, but she said nothing.

"Tip the cauldron and clean it," Lili commanded, turning away and gliding to a nearby desk. She removed her dragonhide gloves, pushing damp curls from her face. Just above her upper lip sweat and steam had collected, and she dabbed at it with her sleeve ends, blinking. _Merlin, I'm tired_, she thought, feeling how heavy her limbs had become. She glanced at a clock on the far wall. _Just another hour_. She could make it.

The sound of water was echoing like static through the room, Hermione scrubbing at the cauldron half-heartedly. Lili could tell that she was quite upset, but dismissed it, pulling a piece of parchment closer and recording the ingredients they had used and to what avail. She wrote that the potion had been ruined, but made sure to substitute her own name for Hermione's. That, at least, would look good to the eyes that were watching.

_They're always watching_, he had told her. He had been right.

 "You would _really_ have let me drink that?" 

Hermione had finally decided to speak, turning off the tap and facing Lili stiffly. 

Internally, Lili groaned. She had seen this stance before and knew it meant a confrontation. Such quarrels happened rarely, but all too often for her liking. She steeled herself, trying to muster some strength for the show. 

"Yes, of course," she said flatly, not bothering to look up from the parchment.

"Even though you knew how painful it would be?" Hermione seemed to tremble, fists balling and unballing in frustration. 

"Yes. It is a rule I observe that one should never be afraid to drink what one would offer others." Though, she mused, it was a rule rarely observed among her 'friends'. She kept a bezoar in her pocket, just in case.

The young woman's lips were pushed tight and pale, and Lili knew an explosion was coming.

"Why must you be so…so bloody rude?" Hermione blurted, eyes shining below her furled brow. She was shaking more visibly now, shoulders rising and falling with rapid, angry breaths.

For a second Lili almost wished she could apologize. The desire didn't last long.

She looked up from the paper, trying to pierce the young woman with the chill of her gaze. She could tell it had worked as Hermione seemed to be holding her breath.

"Miss Granger," Lili said, fingers still gripping her quill loosely. "I am not in the habit of reserving niceties for Mudblood fumblers, especially ones who marry poor nobodies like Ronald Weasley and befriend arrogant Aurors like Harry Potter." 

Lili kept Hermione's eyes, lips weighed heavily in a disapproving frown. 

The young woman's mouth opened and closed several times before she finally decided what to say. "Well, at least I keep better company than the scum you call 'friends.' Draco and Luc—"

"All people are scum, Miss Granger," Lili interrupted, going back to writing with a loose hand. "Some are simply more concerned with hiding it than others. And the sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be."

Hermione was silenced, watching her partner with an astonished mixture of rage and sadness.

_She's pitying me_, Lili thought, vexed. _Like the good little Gryffindor she is; she both hates and pities me_. She pressed the quill so hard, ink began to blot on the parchment. Lili had no patience for such nonsense.

"You sound like Snape," Hermione mumbled, leaning on one of the nearby shelves and looking down at the flagstones, frown tight on her lips. 

Lili's hand froze. It was odd, she mused, how often the Potions Master had popped in her head today. Over the last two years, she had thought of him less and less, though using all he'd taught her every day. She could remember him, many times, poised just as she was, scrawling at his desk while insulting his students coolly. She remembered his eyes, perched above that hooked nose, sharp and piercing, like black ice. She tried to hear the words she had just said coming from his lips. _Hmmm, perhaps not subtle enough for him_. He had always been able to beat her at that—

She dipped her quill deliberately in its well. "I will take that, Miss Granger, as a compliment."

It had been two years since she had seen him; really seen him—not through a mask or hood. 

"The highest compliment," she whispered to herself, finishing the report with a crisp flourish.

**********************

A/N: The first real chapter! Well, Lili has changed: does that come across? I brought Hermione in—I hope I write her reacting as she would. She's going to be an interesting character to work with…

The next chapter will be the true beginning of the action. Once again, if you haven't read _We Are the Night_, I recommend you read that first…

Please r/r and let me know what you think! And tell all your friends ;o) hehe.

Oh, and extra bonus cookies to anyone who can tell me where the line "When I start to forget things you can light my funeral pyre and put me on it" is from. 

Ok, onward and upward…and next chapter, we'll meet Olivia! 


	3. A Fool's Drug

_Chapter Two:_ A Fool's Drug

Lili approached the door, flat-lipped. She did this every day, and every day it was the same.

"Alohamora," she sighed, flicking her wand without much thought.

The knob glowed a bright red.

_Damn, Olivia_. 

She didn't want to say it: it was…_humiliating_…

 "Gryffindor forever," she snarled.

The door slid open, and Lili pushed through with a grunt, slamming it behind her. Olivia apparently thought this was an amusing choice of passwords, and laughed whenever Lili brought up the subject of changing it.

The flat was empty, and, with a sigh, Lili set down the files she was cradling, collapsing in a chair. 

_Next time, _I _get to set the password_, she thought, pulling off her shoes and settling back with a sigh. _I'll make it something good. _She considered this a moment, as she did every day, a smirk creeping across her face. _I'll make it 'Voldemort.' Silly girl can't even say that without going through nervous palpitations…_

Just as she was contemplating a quick nap, a loud noise clattered from an adjoining room, and she leapt to her feet, wand out. This sort of readiness had become ingrained…

Her mind whirled. It wouldn't be Olivia: it was her day for Auror-training and she shouldn't get home for another half hour…

"Who's there?" she shouted, moving across the room gingerly, not taking her eyes off the half-closed door. Someone was in her bedroom…"Come out, or I'll zap you so hard you'll wish you'd learned a charm for removing your head from your ar—"

A large, black bat came jetting out from behind the door, squawking loudly and hoping to avoid any reaction on Lili's part.

Her shaking heart plummeted, and she wilted against a large coffee table. "Artibius—you scared the living kelpies out of me." She swallowed, putting her wand back in her robes and running her fingers through her hair, still breathing heavily. In her fear, hundreds of different and horrible situations had flashed through her mind: there was no shortage of people who might want to break into her flat…

Artibius landed on her shoulder, eyeing her uncertainly but snuggling against her all the same. 

"I didn't expect you'd be awake at this hour, you daft bat," she said, not able to hold her vexed frown long. For almost a year now, Artibius had been keeping more regular bat hours. Lili wasn't sure, but she suspected it was an adjustment to her own lifestyle. She was no longer able to see him during the day, so he opted to wake at night when she would be available to pet him and, more importantly, cook him some food.

He nipped at her finger, sensing her thoughts.

Her tired muscles objected, but her stomach agreed. "Alright, alright," she said, standing and moving into the kitchen with an elaborate roll of her eyes. "I'm making something, I'm making something." 

She peeled open the wooden cabinets, eyes glossing over their contents. Artibius deflated with an angry click. 

There was a large bag of rice, several slices of bread, a bag of flour, a bag of sugar, a few stray potions she liked to use for flavor, and two half-full bottles of brandy. Olivia teased her quite often about this. _I swear, Lili, you don't ever go shopping till the liquor runs out…_

"I'll go shopping tomorrow after I get off," she promised, pulling out the bag of rice and, with a quick glance at Artibus, one of the half-full bottles of brandy. "Until then, I'll borrow a few vegetables from Olivia's crisper and see what I can do." 

The bat seemed skeptical but nodded, flying off into the other room and settling on the unmoving ceiling fan.

She tapped her wand to the stove and a low fire sizzled. 

Now to see what I can pinch from Olivia… 

The bottom drawer of the fridge was well-stocked as Olivia didn't share Lili's philosophy on shopping only once a month. It was odd since Olivia was, between the two of them, the thinner one. 

But, Lili mused, pulling an onion and a pepper out with flourish, stocking ones fridge and eating its contents are entirely different things. In fact, if she was honest with herself, she probably ate as much of Olivia's food as Olivia did.

Behind her, she heard a leaping whoosh of fire and turned, hoping she hadn't managed to set something ablaze again. 

A woman's thin-eyed head was staring back at her through the flames, and it took Lili a moment to recognize her.

"Xiao Ke?" 

The small, high-cheekboned head nodded vehemently and, over the crackling of the fire, exclaimed, "Lili!"

It took Lili a moment to recover from the shock. Closing the refrigerator door and abandoning the produce, she stepped across to the fire, excitedly. "Xiao Ke, ni hao, ni hao! Ni zenme zhao dao wo a?"

The woman's lips pressed together primly, and she shook her head. "No, please, Lili-a: I am trying to improve my English." Her 'r's rolled by like water.

Lili couldn't help but smile. "It's certainly improved over the last three years. How are you? And really, how did you find me?" She had written her friend several times, but had never given any contact information. Being confronted with faces from her past had not seemed a very good idea: she had done her best to forget the happiness and innocence of Zhong Mo Xue and face reality without looking back. 

"Oh, I was doing interview with man at Saint Mungo's: through fire, of course. Too difficult travel so far," she explained, brushing at a strand of black hair that had fallen in her face. "While I talk to him, I ask him how I can find ex-Hogwart student. He tell me to contact Headmaster there." Her eyebrows raised, indicating that she thought herself quite clever. "I talk to him, and he told me where to find you. And, since your birthday is coming up…wanted to wish you good luck. Not talk to you in so long."

Lili crouched down before the stove until she was eye to eye with her guest's head. "Well, I appreciate it. I can't believe you went to all that trouble. Did you get my last letter?" 

The woman's head wobbled again, a confirmation. "Yes. Sound like this Herminee is big headache for you." 

Lili grinned, vaguely aware of the door to the apartment opening and closing softly. "Yes, well, one can't always be happy in one's work. Besides, I think she'll be promoted soon, so, perhaps I'll have better luck."

But the woman's head was craning, looking to see who was stalking past in the background. "Ta shi shei a?"

Lili turned, glancing perfunctorily. "Ah, shi wo de tongwu, Olivia."

"Ahh."

As if on cue, Olivia strolled into the kitchen, examining Lili, the half-empty bottle, the abandoned vegetables, and the head on the fireplace with a smile. 

"Hello," Xiao Ke intoned through the flames, a hand appearing briefly to wave. "I am Lili's friend from China. My name is Ke Yi-yun."

Olivia waved back, looking a bit lost by the name. "Er, hi. I'm Olivia, Lili's roommate." 

The woman in the fire beamed and, turning to Lili, remarked, "Ta hen piaoliang a."

"Hey," Olivia objected, gaze jerking towards Lili questioningly. "What'd she say?" 

An impish smile curling across her face, Lili merely shrugged. There was no way she was going to tell Olivia that yet another person had commented on how pretty she was. Better to let her sweat.

But it was true: Olivia was tall, athletic, and, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, she was the perfect picture of what every Slytherin girl bristled to see. Except, of course, that she was also fairly civil and, well, she wasn't the _perfect_ Gryffindor by any means. 

"No fair, speaking in Chinese," Olivia grumbled, stepping away from the fire and laying some of her things on the dining table with a sigh. 

Lili turned back to Xiao Ke, grinning. "Well, how is everyone? I've been trying to keep writing but you know how things are…"

"Ah, remind me!" The woman's thin eyes widened. "You get my present yet?"

"Present? What present?" 

The woman pursed her lips, brow furled. "I send sometime back. Early birthday present—Was not sure of address, so, just send it to Elizabeth Lee in London, hoping Dragon Post find you."

Lili was just beginning to tell her no, when she heard Olivia from somewhere behind her gasp. 

"Oh, yeah," her roommate said, scurrying back into the kitchen. "I forgot. I got the mail: there was some for you, including this package." She handed Lili a stack of envelopes and a small package wrapped in brown paper. The two of them, having between them no owl and one lazy bat, had bought a private box in town where all deliveries came and went.

"Yes, that's it!" Xiao Ke exclaimed, her smile broadening. "Open, open."

She tried not to act it, but Lili felt quite excited. She didn't get presents often, and she couldn't believe her old friend would have gone to all the trouble. She ripped at the paper excitedly. 

It was a book. Its title was both in Chinese and English, and, at once, Lili recognized it. "Oh, Li Bai. It's wonderful."

Xiao Ke smiled, her thin eyes gleaming, satisfied. "Yes, I saw it in shop few weeks ago and think of you. I remember how you love his poetry and how you say you are missing Chinese book. And my thinking is this quite beautiful edition. So, happy birthday."

It was indeed quite beautiful, bound between pale green covers, sweeping calligraphy with English translations of every page. She was overcome with the urge to embrace her friend, but realized that scorching herself on the fire would be a bit foolish. "Thank you so much. I can't wait to read it."

Her friend's smile softened, eyes turning up slightly with happiness. "You are welcome, Lili. We have missed you. You must come visit sometime."

She forced a smile, an aching deep in the pit of her heart. If only she could go back: her old life, her old friends were waiting for her there. _Friends_…they were a distant memory.

"Well, hopefully I'll be able to sometime," she sighed. "And maybe if you can manage that job at Saint Mungo's…"

Xiao Ke's dark eyes twinkled. "Oh, I _too_ qualified for that job. But, we'll see." The head in the fire turned and snapped something softly. When she turned back, her grin was apologetic. "Oh, sorry, Lili. Must go. Roommate not happy to have me use fire so late. Good talking to you."

Lili nodded, unwilling to see her go. "Of course. It's good talking to you. And," she added, shaking her finger with mock-scolding, "now that you know where I live, I expect more calls like this."

Xiao Ke nodded, trying to feign fearful obedience. "Oh, I know better than to mess with you, Lili-a," she laughed, smiling. "I call again soon. S_hengri kuai le, wo hao pengyou_."

"_Xie xie,_" Lili said, standing. "And I hope your roommate isn't too upset…"

The woman rolled her eyes then disappeared. 

Lili was left looking straight into the flames, heat just beginning to register on her face.

And that was how all her memories or dreams of Zhong Mo Xue ended: jerked back into the chill of reality, her stomach leaden, twinge of regret gnawing at her heart.

She fingered the book a moment before tapping the fire again, giving up momentarily on dinner. Sadness and nostalgia threatening, she grabbed the bottle of brandy and did her best to brush away thoughts of Zhong Mo Xue,  concentrating on the envelopes still gripped loosely in her hand.

"Nice girl," Olivia said from the table where she sat reading through her mail. "Hard to imagine a Slytherin having such decent friends."

An insult jumped into Lili's mind, but she dismissed it, as she often did with Olivia. She spent the whole day insulting Hermione, and, most of the time, her heart simply wasn't in it after hours. She lobbed an advertisement across the room, landing it in the waste bin. Olivia watched and awarded her an impressed nod.

"How was Auror-training?" Lili took a seat at the table, not really listening as the story was almost always the same.

Olivia sighed, drumming her fingers on the table and pushing the rest of her mail away. "Oh, well, you can guess. I'm going to need a few more of those anti-depressant potions, by the way."

Lili arched an eyebrow, but didn't look up from her Gringotts statement. "Those things can be addictive you know," she said, folding the paper and fitting it back in its envelope. "What went wrong?"

Her roommate leaned forward, resting her head on her hand grimly. "Oh, well, Mad-eye Moody was there again today, instructing us on the use of Displacement charms, you know in terms of moving threats or disarming or what have you."

Lili nodded.

"So we were supposed to use this charm on Moody, displacing him from behind a tree to a spot closer and more vulnerable," she continued, clicking her tongue a little in disgust. "Well, you know how I am around Mad-eye Moody: got all flustered. Reversed the letters a bit." She sighed. "And, apparently, when you rearrange the letters in this particular displacement charm, it, er, displaces a person's toes and reattaches them to his—forehead."

Lili looked up, jaw dropped. "You mean—no—you didn't!"

"Uh, well," Olivia smiled wanly. "I sort of gave Mad-eye Moody a new look."

As hard as she tried, Lili couldn't help but release a few half-stifled laughs.

"Yeah, I wish _he_ had thought it was funny," Olivia said, picking her head up glaring at Lili. "Unfortunately, when half his feet were, er, displaced and reattached to his head, he sort of lost his balance, fell flat on his face, and—well, broke one of his newly reattached toes." 

Lili had to push her lips together painfully to avoid laughing again.

"It's okay, I know it's funny," Olivia said, waving her hand loosely. "It's just, well, I'm starting to wonder if I should even kid myself with this Auror thing. I mean, three years of training? I'm starting to see people I graduated Hogwarts with teaching my classes."

Lili swallowed her amusement, returning to the mail, uncomfortable. She wasn't good at this sort of thing: consoling Olivia after such incidents. Frankly, she was merely astonished that someone could botch a simple charm _that_ badly; but she was pretty sure this thought wouldn't help matters much.

"I'm going to be working at that damn café the rest of my life." She looked up, opening her mouth to continue, but, spying Lili's discomfiture, merely cleared her throat. "Well, anyway; I guess I'll just have to do better next time." She went back to examining her mail in silence.

Lili hated to admit it, but she had begun to feel sorry for Olivia. Though the young woman actually enjoyed her day job at a Muggle coffee house (which was something Lili still couldn't comprehend), she truly had her heart set on being an Auror. It was her dream, and she pursued it with a renowned if not overtly mocked tenacity. 

  
In fact, Olivia's track-record in Auror-training was so poor that it had become quite an ongoing joke in the Circle: the would-be Auror who lived in the same flat as a Death Eater. Lili had to admit, the girl, while intelligent, certainly didn't have the instincts…or the skills.

"So, birthday coming up, I hear," Olivia sighed at length. "You're not going to let me forget this year." 

_Oh no,_ she thought, in the midst of a long draw of brandy. It turned sour as she swallowed. "No, no, no, Olivia. I told you, it's not a big deal," Lili insisted, folding open her _Daily Prophet_ and being sure to give Olivia a meaningful glare. Her last two birthdays had been spent alone at Hogwarts and at a Death Eater meeting, respectively. Olivia, luckily, hadn't found out about the "special day" until almost a month after the fact and had sworn not to forget next time. 

"I don't want a big fuss."

Olivia smiled, leaning in towards Lili, mischievous glint in her blue eyes. "I saw how excited you were to get that gift from your friend there. You want a party, even if that callous Slytherin exterior won't let you admit it…"

Olivia, if nothing else, knew how to push her buttons. "Oh stuff it, you damned Gryff," she snarled, returning her gaze steadily to the paper. "Only you could assume to know what's best for me in spite of my own bleeding words. I was excited to see Xiao Ke, not—"  
  


But she stopped.

Two large photographs were moving on the front of the _Daily Prophet,_ and had caught Lili's eye. The first was of a wizard, crying, and, beside him, the second was a familiar-looking dark-skinned witch, laughing and adjusting her bride's veil: apparently an old wedding photo. Lili's gaze jerked up to the headline, heart pounding. 

_Business Mogul's Wife Missing_.

"What? What is it?" Olivia was leaning even farther forward, trying to get a glimpse of the paper.

 But Lili kept reading, and they sat in thick silence for several more minutes. 

She looked up, face gone white.

"What?" Olivia snatched the paper from across the table.

"Junia Bell is missing."

Olivia's eyes flickered over the words, reading. "Jonathan Bell, owner of _Black Jack's,_ the immensely popular chain of magical casinos, today received some news he hadn't gambled on. " She paused, glancing at Lili before continuing, seeming confused. "Bell's long-time wife, Junia, has been officially reported missing. Mrs. Bell apparently disappeared during a trip to France from which she was supposed to return last week."

Lili thought back furiously, trying to remember faces from previous night. She hadn't even noticed that Junia was absent from the crowd: she had been too concerned with her own skin. 

"The Ministry has assured Mr. Bell as well as this publication, that it will be searching for Mrs. Bell and will report any news as soon as it is available. Mr. Bell is deeply grieved, hinting his suspicions that this incident is yet another in a foul string or murders and disappearances some alarmists are beginning to associate with the return of-- " Olivia fell off, looking up at Lili, brow furled. "What? Did you know her or something?"

Sweat had begun to bead in the crooks of Lili's elbows, and her stomach was registering the information with a hot roiling. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I—met her. Through the Malfoys."

Olivia sat back, laying the paper on the table and looking solemn. "I'm sorry."

_Not as sorry as I am, _she thought, blood draining from her face_. _She began to feel her insides trembling as her mind chased out the implications of such news. She had indeed met Junia Bell through the Malfoys: at a dinner-party two years previous. Junia had been there when she had—Lili swallowed—been forced to take the Dark Mark. And, she had found out shortly afterwards, Junia was, like Snape and herself, acting as a double agent. In fact she worked directly with Snape, funneling information through him to Dumbledore and the Department of Mysteries. Junia was—Lili paused, wondering whether she should begin using the words "had been." _No, no. Not yet_. _Not until she was certain_…

Junia was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted: if she was missing, it could only mean one thing…

"Well," Olivia sighed. "Maybe there's no need to be so pessimistic. Maybe she's alive: you know, just got lost on her way back or something."

_Typical Gryffindor optimism_, Lili thought, feeling impatient. _She doesn't understand what this could mean…_

She breathed deeply, trying to calm the blood that was pounding through her veins. Perhaps her optimism wasn't so misplaced; perhaps it wasn't as serious as all that. While Lili found it hard to imagine that such an intelligent and cunning witch could get lost on her way back from France, it _was_ possible that she had run. If she had gotten wind that the Dark Lord was suspicious of her, she may simply have asked the Ministry to help her escape somewhere. Hell, maybe she had taken flight on her own. 

Lili hoped, for Snape's sake, that this was so.

Her heavy eyes fell to the final bit of mail on the table. It was an advertisement for Lang's Lizard Lollys, a new treat for—

Lili read no further, standing and snatching up the Department summons to prevent Olivia looking at it. _He could be a bit more subtle,_ she thought, heading for the door.

Olivia looked up, puzzled. "Where are you going?"

"Going to visit the Malfoys, see if they've heard the news," she lied. 

Her roommate nodded solemnly, but Artibius, now seated on the table, squawked in protest. 

"Sorry, Artibius," she said, giving the bat an apologizing frown. "Can't do dinner tonight."

Olivia lifted him up with a smile and gave Lili a nod. "Don't worry. We were going to order some Professor Persephone's Pepperoni and Pineapple Pizza, weren't we, Artibius?" 

Artibius squealed: it was his favorite. 

On the other side of the door, Lili wished she could still manage a smile.

***********************

Lang was back to tapping his quill when Lili entered, black guards close behind. He looked even more pitiful than he had that morning, drooped over the papers in front of him, eyes dull. He didn't raise his head to greet her.

Her normal seat at his desk was cold, and she sat, uncomfortable, until he chose to speak. 

"I suppose you read the news about Junia." It was the voice of a man who hadn't seen his bed in far too long.

"Yes, just a few minutes ago." 

"And I don't suppose you have any idea what's happened to her."

Lili's heart fluttered, but she was not ready to give into her fears yet. "No."

Lang let out a sigh the likes of which Lili had never heard from him. It sounded like a wind, echoing off the gray, concrete walls. He dropped his quill and leaned back, eyeing her over what seemed an inconceivable distance. "You know, I'm tired of having no idea what's going on."

She sat straighter, not missing the accusation. "As am I," she snapped, her hand once again finding its way to his nameplate. "When I read the news I hoped that, for once, the Ministry might have _done_ its job and kept with its people—perhaps might have saved her from some impending danger; maybe even smuggled her away." Her voice, which had begun strong and impatient, unraveled into a hopeful question.

Lang arched a thin eyebrow. He seemed to be considering her for a moment, the way one might examine an animal in a zoo. He sighed again. "No, we've no idea where she is."

Her entire body sank, limbs suddenly becoming leaden and cold. _Of course: you should have known._

Words popped into her head, from some distant time. _Optimism, Miss Lee, is fit only for Gryffindors and the Muggle clergy: it's a fool's drug…_

She wilted in the chair, trying to dam the fear and anger tingling at the ends of her veins. "Well then, Voldemort must have found out and taken her," she said, returning her hands to her lap, suddenly having no strength to hold them up. "Junia's dead."

This seemed to spark something in Lang, and he sat up meeting Lili's eyes severely. "Now there's no reason to assume--"

"My God, Marcus: what kind of a world do you think we're living in!" she yelled, one hand pounding against the desk with a thud, eyes boring into his taut, bronze face with the full force of the anger she'd been blocking up. _He doesn't understand anything. He doesn't know what they'd have done to her, what she must have suffered before…_ She could hear the guards shuffle uneasily behind her, but she didn't care. Her body was filling with heat, and frustrated tears were burning in her throat: she no longer allowed them in her eyes. "There's _every_ reason to believe she's dead and that they tortured her until she told them _everything_! Do you know what the Cruciatus Curse _feels _like? A wizard would betray his mother, his wife, his own _children_ to have that pain stop!" She was trembling with hot breath, remembering the only time she'd seen the curse, on a Death Eater who'd failed to take out Mad-Eye Moody as planned. Eventually, the man had passed out and, as far as Lili knew, he was still in a coma somewhere…

She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Her mind, instead, went on popping up thoughts of its own accord.

_Snape_. 

Junia would have told them Snape's name—it would have been the first thing to escape her lips…

Opening her eyes, she saw that Lang was pale, mouth barely open, breath coming slow. He, apparently, did not know what to say, but was watching her with smoldering disgust.

She pinched at the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache pounding deep in her skull. _Calm down, Lili. Please. Think: don't get carried away. There's got to be some way to think this through…_

She swallowed. "Look—Snape might know something about Junia. Have you talked to him?"

There was a slow silence before the gray walls resounded with a familiar, low silk. 

"No, Miss Lee. They have not."

Lili spun around, unwilling to believe her ears. 

Snape was standing behind her, black eyes twinkling at her ferociously. _He must have come in during that outburst_…

She was suddenly quite embarrassed and turned back towards Lang, trying to mask her blush. _He taught you better than to get so emotional…_

Lang's gaze met Snape, if possible, with even more disgust than he reserved for Lili. He seemed at once repulsed and intimidated by the Potions Master, and knowing this made Lili suddenly unutterably glad Snape was there: it was nice to see Marcus cowed, if even a bit. She stood, offering her seat. 

"Please, Miss Lee," Snape said, looking at her with the stonily pursed lips that, from him, conveyed some gratitude. "I'd prefer to stand."

She sat back down.

Lang picked up his quill in some effort to busy his fidgeting hands. "We were just discussing, Severus—"

"Yes, I heard." He stepped up beside Lili's chair, and, at once, Lili was overcome with a scent that had once been so familiar. She breathed, feeling the stale spice strong in the back of her mouth. She looked up at him, his hooked nose jutting out sharply from the rest of his face. "You want to know what I can tell you about Junia."

Lang attempted the arched eyebrow he used on Lili, but it was squelched in Snape's glare. "Well, yes."

Snape sighed, wrapping a hand around the arm of Lili's chair and leaning slightly. "I don't know much. I certainly don't know where she is." Lili felt her heart sinking again but steeled herself, concentrating on the slow, delicate movements of Snape's lips. "I _do_ know that she'd been very nervous lately. Apparently she had a suspicion that the Dark Lord knew something. She told me her misgivings a week and a half ago, just before she left for France: she said she was considering asking the Ministry to help her run."

Lang was leaning forward now, head cocked, quill stilled.

"I suspect," Snape said through a sigh, adjusting his grip on her chair, "that she simply decided, once in France, to keep going—to run. I had tried to convince her not to, but she seemed positive that, if she didn't get away soon, the results would be disastrous." 

Lili probed him, trying to decide if he was telling Lang everything. It wasn't odd to conceal some things: Lili did it on occasion simply because the Ministry didn't always handle information in the best way possible. On her first tip they had gone after a street-market peddler who had been selling some illegal ingredients which, unfortunately, ended up in some rather Death Eater concoctions. The man had been thrown into Azkaban after what even Lang admitted was a sham of a trial, though it was unclear whether he had any idea what was being done with the items he sold. Lili decided, after that, she would get every possible fact before deciding whether something was worth mentioning…

But Snape appeared to be hiding nothing factual: only, well, something Lili couldn't quite decipher. He was definitely holding back, but she suspected he was merely bottling up the same fear and sadness as she.

"So you think she might have—run?" Lang had taken to scrawling some notes on the parchment in front of him, forgetting, for the moment, to speak condescendingly.

"Yes," Snape said with a frown of disgust. It was the same way Lili had seen him respond to timid Gryffindors who took too long answering simple questions. "I think that's a possibility."

Lang nodded, scrawling madly and seeming slightly more hopeful. "Well, that's certainly better than the alternative: though, if it's true, she ought to have come to the Ministry and explained…"

Snape and Lili exchanged brief and knowing glances.

_The Ministry wouldn't have known what to do, _Lili decided,_ if Junia handed them a map and said, "I want to go here." _She could picture twenty memos being passed about, and a vote being scheduled for some time the next month. Meanwhile, it was the People who paid: some with their lives…

Lang sighed, laying down his quill and rubbing his hand, thought written across his stern features. "Alright." He leaned back and looked between them, questioning. "So, what are we going to do?" 

"For once, Marcus, just for once," Lili said, feeling exhaustion shaking at her limbs, " I wish _you_ had a course of action to offer _us_ and not the other way 'round."

He had returned to his former lofty smirk, leaning forward and meeting her with cold eyes. "This is _your_ arena, not mine."

Snape gave a low growl and removed his hand from her chair. Lili could tell he did not like having to deal with the agent, and she couldn't blame him.

 "I'll tell you what we do, _Lang_," he spat, eyes flashing in an attempt to force the other man to back off once more. "Nothing. We do _nothing._"

Lang sank back in his seat.

"We wait, and we see how things unfold." He paused, his tone losing some of its bite but none of its muted ice. "If Voldemort got her, we'll find out. If she's run, either she'll contact me about it, or we'll never hear from her again. We can only wait and see."

Lili cleared her throat a bit, and sat up. "I can go speak with Lucius Malfoy tomorrow after work," she offered, looking up at Snape, trying to forget Lang's presence. "I can ask him if he know anything about what's happened to her. It will seem a natural question: one Death Eater trying to find out about another."

Snape considered this a moment, watching her closely. 

Merlin, how long it'd been since she'd found herself in those dark tunnels; memories floated back to her, unbidden. She let herself be pinned in his eyes, feeling an odd nostalgia. Two years ago, she had found the shadows of his gaze unnerving: now, it was simply like staring into a mirror, looking at a deeper version of her own darkness…

"Are you sure it wouldn't seem too suspicious?" he asked at length.

She shook her head. "No; I visit Lucius on occasion, especially when I have business to discuss with him. I would think it'd be more suspicious to seem unconcerned."

Snape considered this. "And you think he'd tell you if Voldemort has her?"

Lili nodded, silent.

"Good," Lang said rather loudly, trying to re-insert himself in the conversation. "Good. That will work well. You go tomorrow and report here after. As for you, Severus…" He rushed through the next words quickly, uncomfortable. "Well, I suppose you just keep your, erm, ears open."

Snape said nothing, staring back at the man, dead-pan.

Lang didn't look up to see this. "Alright, you can go." He waved a hand loosely. 

Rolling her eyes, Lili followed Snape out the door, guards close behind. 

She wished they could have a private conversation. She wanted to talk to him about Junia, about the implications, about what he planned to do if… 

But, with the guards present, they merely stepped quickly, trying to make their way to a corridor where they no longer had to be watched.

She glanced up at him as they mounted a flight of stairs. _He's afraid_, she realized, probing him quickly. It wouldn't have been apparent to anyone else, but she knew how to gauge the downturn of his lips, the sluggishness of his eyes, the slight flare of his nostrils. His shoulders were high and tense, hands balled and leaden at his sides. Most would have taken this for his normal foulness: but it was more…

Finally, the black-clad guards clicked their heels and turned, disappearing back towards the depths of the Department of Mysteries. Snape continued up further stairs, not stopping to pay Lili any mind.

His remoteness hurt her a little, but she chided herself for such childish sulking. What had she expected? A warm hug? A "wow, it's been so long. Great to see you again!"? It was Snape, not Xiao Ke: and surely he had many other things on his mind…

After a few more flights, his voice echoed loud but not severe. "You know, Miss Lee, you needn't accompany me to the Knight Bus. Feel free to apparate from here."

Lili said nothing for a long while, considering the idea of Snape sitting alone on the Knight Bus, gloomy and sandwiched between so many others, boisterous and clueless of his danger…

It was no secret amongst those who were in a position to know such things, that Snape hated apparating. This combined with the fact that one could only apparate as far as Hogsmeade, she supposed, led him to prefer the Knight Bus. Lili couldn't blame him. Apparition always left her feeling light-headed and off-balance somehow. 

She stopped and, after a few shuffled steps, Snape stopped as well, turning towards her with a frown and a sharply arched eyebrow. "Miss Lee?"

"You don't really believe she ran, do you?" But she didn't need to ask. She could hear it in the rise and fall of his low, threatening voice.

He opened his mouth quickly, but closed it again, as if changing his mind. He drew in several deep breaths and then continued up slowly, motioning for her to follow beside him. She did.

"No, Miss Lee," he said finally, sighing. "No, I don't. Optimism is a—"

"Fool's drug, yes," Lili interrupted, with an impatient movement of her hand. "But, I mean, you don't think it's at least a possibility?" 

His eyes were fixed on the steps ahead of him. "I believe it's a possibility or I would not have mentioned it to Lang at all," he said, lank, black hair bouncing with every step. "But it's not what happened. I knew Junia for quite some time. She wasn't the sort to tuck tail and run, not without a good deal of discussion first. She believed, as I do, that we—well, that we are in a business of importance to others, and that the danger shouldn't be averted from—from nervous fear."

Lili nodded. It seemed a fair assessment from what little she had known of the woman…

"I don't know," he sighed finally, approaching the ground level door with a frown. "Perhaps—well, as I told Lang. We should wait and find out. Everyone must—keep their heads and wait."

Lili knew he was speaking more to himself than her, but nodded, pretending to receive the lesson obediently. 

His eyes flickered over her, and, to her surprise, he afforded her a wan smile. "Well, Miss Lee, I didn't expect to run into you here so late, but it was a-- pleasant surprise. I—I think you've done very—" But he stopped, lips dropping again as he reached up to the door handle. "Just don't tip your hand to Lucius tomorrow; he may seem simple, but he can read things better—well, I suppose you know." He pressed his lips together, as if considering but rejecting the idea of another forced smile. "I don't need to give you advice anymore, Miss Lee. You're—well you're on your own and doing—fine."

"Good then," Lili said, not trying to hide her own wry grin. "I guess that means I won't have to thank you anymore, sir." She met his eyes with a steely twinkle but was astounded to see what he returned. It was dark, and churning, and it made Lili's entire body flush with hot blood. He was worried but trying desperately to hide it. His eyes were hollows, and she could see straight into his thoughts and the emotions he was stoppering so fiercely.

"I'll be sure Lang lets you know what I find out tomorrow," she attempted, lamely. Just as with Olivia, she didn't know how to comfort him…

Snape nodded, turning the knob. "Good night, Miss Lee." 

She opened her mouth to say, "Good night, Professor," but realized quite suddenly that he had not been her 'professor' for some time. Not knowing what else to call him, she merely returned his nod and disapparated with a soft but echoing pop.

***************************

A/N: Well, let me tell you, this was a long chapter. The chapters, I think, will generally be longer than in _We Are the Night_, but there will also be fewer of them: at least the way I have it outlined now. 

I'm having fun writing this: almost too much fun really. I LOVE the reviews I've gotten. I'm glad people are enjoying this so far. I hope I can give you more to enjoy…

What does everyone think of Olivia? Oh, writing a Gryffindor; it's a challenge. And what do you think of the relationship between she and Lili? I tried to make it a friendship with some interesting ironies and tensions: but, really, at this point in the story, Olivia is her only friend (though of course Lili wouldn't admit it…)

Li Bai is a real classical Chinese poet, and the book will, of course, figure in later.

Speaking of Chinese, let's do a bit of translation here…

Xiao Ke: /shee-ow kuh/ --she says her name is Ke Yi-yun, but in China it's common to use this form of address for friends (xiao + last name: xiao means "little" and is sort of affectionate…)

Ni zenme zhao dao wo a? /nee zuh(n)-muh jow dow wah ah?/

How did you find me? 

Ta shi shei a? /tah shur shay ah/

Who is she? 

Shi wo de tongwu /shur wah duh tohng-woo/

It's my roommate 

Ta hen piaoliang a /tah huhn pee-ow-lee-ahng ah/

She's quite pretty 

(Zhu ni) shengri kuai le, wo hao pengyou /(joo nee) shuhng-ruhr kwai luh, wah how puhng-yoe/

_Happy birthday, my friend._

And of course __

Xie xie /shee-eh shee-eh/  : _thanks_

Ni hao /nee hao/ : _hi_

Wow. The most Chinese you'll see for the WHOLE thing, I promise.

And last, but certainly not least, our dear Snape returns in the flesh. If only you knew what things were in store…

The next chapter will give (alas) be a Snape-free one, but certainly not full or, erm, action. We will, however, see Hermione again…

Oh, and to answer the point someone raised about Hermione being suspicious that she keeps getting credit for work she's not doing, I had thought of this as well. However, I can only assume that Lili, being a pretty sharp one, would know how to do it subtly enough to avoid suspicion. I'd also guess that Hermione, not too dull herself, is probably actually making some progress of her own; so any praise she received isn't likely so out of the blue…

Please let me know what you think…I love getting those reviews!!!!!!!

I've decided to make Sundays my official posting days. So, you will have chapter three by next Sunday, the 9th, which, oddly enough, happens to be my birthday! 

Until then, you'll have to sweat it… ;o)


	4. Wormwood and Asphodel

_Chapter Three_: Wormwood and Asphodel

Lili turned a black bottle over the cauldron with a heavy-handed wipe at her brow. Nothing happened.

She tapped on its bottom at first, then slammed the heel of her hand against it, then, finally, resigned herself to peeking inside. It was empty.

She allowed herself several breaths to work up to speaking. "Miss Granger, where is my powdered mugwort?" She held the empty bottle out loosely, doing her best to look severe through tired eyes.

Hermione was across the room, bent over her own cauldron, working on something that was, apparently, quite enthralling. It took Lili three more "Miss Granger"s before her partner finally looked up. "What? I'm sorry I didn't hear."

Lili laid a gloved hand on the cauldron's lip, supporting her fatigued body. For the last few hours she had been mulling over just how the meeting later that afternoon should go. She never relished her trips to Malfoy Manor, and, at the moment, the situation with Junia, and, indeed the possible danger to Snape and herself, was weighing on her so deeply that bickering with Hermione was the last thing in the world she wanted. 

_But_, she mused, _what I want hasn't mattered for some time…_

She sighed. "I asked, Miss Granger, where my powdered mugwort is. I seem to have switched our bottles as this one is empty and mine was still half full." She spoke with exaggerated lip movement, as if explaining to a child.

This usually frustrated Hermione immensely, but now she merely went back to looking at her cauldron, pinching something in and refusing to meet Lili's eyes. "Oh, I used the last of it yesterday. Remember, I was making that second formulation for Restorative we had talked ab—"

"Why, Miss Granger," Lili pressed, a twinge of hot blood tingling under her skin, "Did you use _my_ store of mugwort rather than your own?"

Hermione barely glanced up at the slumped, accusing figure looming across the room. "Mine was out, and if I hadn't added yours at just the right time, the whole batch would have been ruined."

Her heart was twisting, objecting with several slow thumps. Her body clearly was in no mood to pursue the argument. Her mind, however, continued to click and whirl, spitting words back to her like volleys of fire. "And now, Miss Granger, because you chose to use the remainder of mine without informing me, _this_ potion will be ruined and I will have to wait three days to get new mugwort, grind it, and let it set properly." She scowled deeply at the other woman, tapping the edge of the cauldron, liquid draining out the bottom into nothingness. "I'll leave _you_ to clean up this mess since it was, unsurprisingly, _your_ fault yet again." Lili turned away, and, as an afterthought, sighed. "And, Miss Granger, next time you have the choice between leaving something for _my_ potion or using it for _yours_, let's always stick with mine, shall we? I mean there's no point in _wasting_ perfectly good ingredients..." 

Apparently, Hermione wasn't up to a fight either; she simply nodded and returned to her potion, distant. 

_That's odd_, Lili thought, taking a seat at her short desk and scrawling out an order for more mugwort. Hermione hardly ever missed a chance to retort or at least purse her lips in passive aggression. Today, however, something else was clearly on her mind, and, though Lili knew better, she wanted to ask the young woman what it was. Hermione had always seemed the type to have everything together, and Lili wasn't used to seeing her anything but content and businesslike. 

"Lili."

She looked up. Hermione was still working at the potion, but half-heartedly, her eyes darting up to meet Lili's infrequently. 

"I—I've put in for a job transfer." 

Hermione's voice was soft, and Lili was amazed at its gentility. She had imagined Hermione would have shouted this at her accusingly; a sort of vengeful jab. Instead, her partner merely gave a wan half-smile. 

"I see," Lili replied, pressing the quill harder to the parchment to steady herself. "And—and why is that?" She regretted saying this at once, knowing it to sound too concerned. In compensation, she pushed her face into an odd smirk. "Looking for something _easier_?"

Hermione swallowed, not rising to the bait. "No, well, it's just that potions have never really been my favorite. I took this job to get a good foothold here at Ministry research. And they were talking about giving me a promotion—"

Lili's stomach turned. _You knew that would happen; you knew_—

Her Slytherin ambition wailed out in pain. 

"But I told them I'd rather just be transferred." She looked up at Lili apologetically, and Lili couldn't help but wonder why. After all the cruelty she had dished out, Hermione could still look at her that way, afraid to hurt the poor Slytherin's tender feelings. 

_I'll show her a Slytherin's tender feelings…_Lili pursed her lips, sitting up and turning from Hermione's gaze as if she'd said nothing of importance. "I see."

The other woman's cauldron bubbled fiercely, filling the silence with its tympanic spattering and hissing static. Lili could still feel Hermione's eyes on her, but she did her best to ignore them. _What does she want from me?_ It was a strange rending that she had not felt in sometime. Part of her—the _real_ part, she tried to remind herself—felt like asking Hermione more, wanted to apologize for all their problems and tell her that, maybe, someday, if this all ended, they might go out and have a drink and talk more than shop. 

But the shadow of her real self—the one she was forced to hold out to the world—demanded that she return to writing, silent, as if this was as unimportant as news about the weather. _In fact_, it told her, _look happy. You're happy to be rid of that know-it-all brat…_

"Besides," she heard the other woman mumbling as she took  up with her potion once more, "we've never made the happiest of partners anyway." There was no bite in these words, and the tearing in Lili's heart ached even more acutely. _Why did she have to be so damn generous about it?_ Just one sharp, punctuated word, and Lili's guilt would have melted. One indication that she was glad to be rid of Elizabeth Lee the Infamously Sour, and Lili would at least have felt no blame. _Damn Gryffindors. Damn tender sensibilities…_

Hermione fidgeted with her hair, skin glowing a healthy pink in her cauldron's light. "Honestly, I'd have thought you'd be glad to see the other side of me." 

_Me too_, Lili thought, sure to keep her heavy, wounded eyes out of sight. _Me too. _

She swallowed, forcing her voice to flatten into deadpan ice. "Indeed." 

The sound of clicking echoed on the stone steps outside, and the door came bursting open with a resounding, wooden thud.

"'Mione!"

A short, rather pug-faced woman came scurrying in, thick legs pounding the floor like the bass drum in a march. Her bright, painted lips were smiling broadly, eyes glittering at Hermione gleefully. "'Mione! I've just heard!"

Hermione looked up with a grin, removing her dragonhide gloves and absorbing a smothering embrace. "Oh, thank you Ann," she managed through the woman's shoulder. 

Ann Watson was their department's secretary, and, rather fortunately in Lili's opinion, she rarely came down to see them. She and Hermione were closely acquainted, however, as Ann's husband had been good friends with Arthur Weasely, Hermione's father-in-law. 

When the other woman released her, Hermione looked grateful. "Oh, I wouldn't have thought anyone here would know yet. We haven't actually told Mister and Misses Weasely…"

"Oh, bless me, dear," Ann said, waving one of her hands about excitedly, "that's not where I heard." 

Hermione looked at her, perplexed. 

"It's all around the Ministry by now, dear," Ann explained, grinning so hard Lili was certain it must have hurt. "Harry Potter has been telling every person he sees…"

"Oh!" Hermione growled, pursing her lips in frustration. "I told Ron not to tell him!"

"But why not, my dear? Why not! It's wonderful news, just marvelous." The woman seemed to be bobbing with all the veracity of a tugboat in a hurricane. "When did you find out?"

Hermione, blushing, tapped her cauldron, causing its contents to suspend in mid-boil. Even the flame beneath froze, and, without the crackling, the room seemed oddly silent. The scratching of Lili's quill echoed harshly for several seconds.

"Last night," Hermione explained, tiny smile hinting across her face. "Ron and I went to see a mediwizard to be sure." The grin seemed to deepen but did not widen. "I'm pregnant. They say I'm due some time in March of next year."

Lili swallowed, her quill scratching rather a sudden, irregular line. _So that's it. _That was what had preoccupied her all morning, keeping her so calm and distant. It wasn't about some job transfer: hell, maybe it was even another reason she'd requested the transfer. Potion-making would be difficult in later months—standing on her feet all day in the blistering heat…

A wound already torn across her heart objected again, widening. _She didn't tell you. Wouldn't._ Hermione was, no doubt, certain that Lili could care less. In fact, she probably imagined she'd only receive some snide remark in return. 

_She would have, and you know it_. Lili forced the quill back under her control. Being honest with herself, she had already considered any number of cracks related to Ron Weasley and Contraception Charms. But still—this was a baby. Even Lili could afford some sensitivity there. She was, after all, a woman. 

_Not to them you're not_, she thought with a sigh. _You're a monster—a cold, unfeeling lump…_

She was hit, quite suddenly, by the full weight of just how disliked she really was.

Glancing down, she noticed with a growl that she had written 'pregnant' rather than 'porcupine.' She scratched it through violently.

"Miss Watson," she snarled, looking up to meet the witch's pair of high-beam blue eyes.

The woman looked as if caught on the wrong end of a wand. "Oh, Lili. Didn't see you there," she attempted, propping a grin across her plump cheeks. "Isn't it great news about 'Mione?"

Lili wondered if Hermione hate having this nickname as much as she hated hearing it. "Thrilling," she replied flatly, sure her eyes had skewered the woman before continuing. "If you ladies are done with the morning gossip, I need you to check the emergency stores for mugwort. Any amount will do."

Ann seemed barely able to look back. "Er, yes, I'll look when I go back up." Her muscles looked tense, a deer prepared to spring at the first movement of its predator.

_Good_, Lili told herself again, scratching over her mistake even more fiercely. _If it's heartless they want, it's heartless they'll get…_She felt a familiar ice cool the emotion pounding through her veins, and she knew, sitting straighter, that she could once again work steadily, mask of shadow secured tightly over her face.

Hermione, obviously uncomfortable with Lili's terse response, reached out gently, laying a hand on Ann's shoulder. "Speaking of babies, how are those twins? Getting over their colds?"

It took Ann a moment to recover. Her smile twinkled with relief. "Oh, they're doin' fine, bless them. Those tonics you brewed up worked like a charm. You know just the other day little Alexis—"

Lili rubbed at her temples, clearing her throat deliberately. She had no desire to hear tales of anything as nauseatingly "adorable" as this was sure to be. She simply wanted her mugwort and a little peace to work in.

Eyes flitting nervously across Lili, Ann gave a short apologetic nod. "Well, it's a blessing, dear. Raising a child—there's nothin' more rewarding."

_Oh please_, Lili moaned internally, speeding across the parchment once again. Perhaps for someone as garish and simple-minded as Ann Watson nothing was more rewarding that shooting out a couple of kids, but for someone as intelligent as Hermione, this must sound a foolish and patronizing notion. Lili looked up to judge the young witch's response.

Hermione's eyes had grown distant, her mouth hanging limp in a way Lili had never seen from her before. It was a look of worry she knew only too well: it was a dark sorrow she saw every morning in the mirror…

"I don't know, Ann," Hermione muttered at length, leaning back on the rough wall behind her. "I must admit, I'm very nervous." She looked up at the other witch, wide-eyed, obviously trying to ignore Lili altogether. "These are—dark times. There'll be war soon. People are being killed—even children. I mean, Alex Silver. Who would ever have thought—but his whole family..." She swallowed, shaking her head as if not willing to pursue the thought. "I'm just not sure that now is the best time to have a child; to bring it into a world so uncertain…"

Plump cheeks sagging, Ann pressed her lips tight in consideration. "Well, there's no doubt it's dark times, 'Mione. But we gotta keep on livin'. If we don't, well then, Dark Lord's already but won." 

Lili's heart sank, a heavy stone in her stomach. _If only she knew. If only she knew that I _have_ given up living; given up whatever might have been just to ensure that that life is in Hermione has a chance, even a slight one, of being able to live…_

Her mind tutted her. _Oh, so noble are we now? _She would never have chosen that path had it not been forced upon her: engaging in such spurts of self-aggrandizing was not only delusion but far too masturbatory for her liking.

"Speaking of dark times…" Ann's face grew grimmer still, and she cleared her throat a little, shifting across her meaty feet. "No, this probably isn't what you want to hear right now—" 

"What?" 

Ann pressed her thick hands together, fingers tangling between one another. "The news about Junia Bell: they've found her."

It took every bit of Lili's control to remain on her seat. As it was, the quill fell from her hand, and her head whipped towards Ann violently. 

Ann looked back at Lili terrified. 

"What did you say?" Lili asked, standing and trying to keep her body from shaking—at least visibly. Inside, her heart quaked short and fast like a leaf in the wind.

It took a moment for the older witch to stutter into speech. "I-I just said they found Junia Bell. Everyone upstairs is—"

"Where?" she pressed, heat and blood racing past her ears and circling swiftly through her body. _Snape was wrong_. "Where did they find her?" Her mind sung the words, her extremities tingling with the beginnings of relief. _They found her: they found her: _perhaps optimism, in this case, wasn't such a foolish thing…

Ann shook off whatever shock still rested on her fleshy face and returned it to its former frown. "Oh, on a Muggle street actually. Right in the middle and all."

"A Muggle street?" Lili narrowed her eyes which seemed to make the other witch step back slightly. "What do you mean a Muggle street? A street here in London?"

Ann glanced over at Hermione who was also listening intently, hand resting lightly on the edge of her cauldron. "Oh, well, yes. Here in London. She was laying right there in the middle, Dark Mark over her and all. Tons of Muggles saw it: even some of their reporters."

Lili felt the cold of the stone walls in an attempt to balance herself. The heat and excitement drained from her to the floor, a puddle of hope at her feet. "Laying in the street? With the Dark Mark?" She swallowed. "So she's—she's dead."

Ann nodded, looking at Lili as if she expected the woman to, at any moment, turn into a man-eating dragon. 

Without looking, Lili felt her way back to her chair and floated down into it, barely aware. _They didn't find _her—_they found her corpse._ "And the Dark Mark—they know it was You-Know-Who…"

The older witch's eyes flashed, widening like blue tea saucers. "Well, that's the really shocking part. The Ministry just finished with her autopsy. At first they'd figured that she'd been killed by Unforgivables: Cruciatus until she had a heart attack, they said. Another cut 'n dry case." Her eyes fell to the floor and her head shook slowly. "But then, when they were examining her arms they found—" The words emerged, a horrified whisper. "The Dark Mark." She swallowed. "Burned, deep under her skin. She was—one of _them_."

Hermione's tiny gasp seemed to crack Lili's heart in two. "Barbarians, beasts," she murmured, eyes sinking heavy towards the ground. "No, worse. Killing even among themselves: disgusting."

A horrible stillness settled on the room, worming deep in Lili's ears with all the thick discomfort of water, fear and sorrow squeezing at the root of her stomach. She clenched her teeth, jaw setting painfully square. Every part of her yearned to scream, to tell them what Junia had _really _been: what a sacrifice she'd made…And what this meant. For her. For Snape. 

But all she could do was ring her hands on the chair's arms and avert her eyes which, for the first time in two years, were beginning to burn with tears.

Apparently, even turning away could not hide her obvious distress. She heard the older witch's thick robes swish, leaning forward. "I—erm--did you know her, Lili?"

Willing her eyes to control themselves, she turned her shaken face up towards the other two slowly. Ann was bent closer to her, face seemingly torn between the normal anxiety and a new-found sympathy. Hermione, however, remained standing rigid, watching Lili flatly.

She gave a sharp nod. "Yes."

When Hermione finally moved, it was with a jerk that seemed far too violent and unnatural. "Oh, you knew her? How interesting, that you knew a Death Eater." Her eyes were trembling, fraught with a hate Lili hadn't known was there. "And how, tell us, did you come to know a Death Eater? A surprising situation indeed!"

She looked up into Hermione's face, taut with fury, hot breath lashing out fast and furious. _Finally._ _An expectant mother, raging against the evil,_ Lili realized, her own trembling hands reaching up to brush a curl behind her ear. _And right now, in her eyes, _you're_ the evil…_

Lili's heart stung, but she took a breath to settle herself. _Remember back to Snape. How many times did he tell you about this? How many times did he tell you the hate, the repulsion you would have to face? _

And she was back in the Dungeons at Hogwarts, his voice, silk and baritone dripping from those stone walls. _Stare it back, Miss Lee. Stare it back as you would a charging hippogriff. Don't let them see you; don't give yourself away to them._

_You know the truth. That's all that matters._

She swallowed. "Actually, Miss Granger, I met Junia Bell through the Malfoys." Gratefully she realized her voice had returned to a stronger, strident drawl. "You might recall I was involved with Draco for some time at Hogwarts."

_And make of that, _she added mentally, _whatever you like_.

Apparently, she made of it precisely what might have been expected, eyes flashing with anger. "And why these sudden tears for _her?_" She spat, pushing past Ann until she stood right before Lili, looming over the seated woman tall and stiff. "What of the others? I saw you shed no tears for them! Great Aurors, Ministry officials, their families, _children_! Their names elicited no such sorrow: the Sneads, Bruce Lietzke, Elayne Crenshaw, Penelope Clearwater, Seamus Finnigan and his wife!" Her robes, black falls of trembling cotton, were brushing violently against Lili's knees. "But let a Death Eater fall, and it's tears and silence, from you!" 

No more words were spoken, but the accusation hung as heavy as the scent of fairywing in the silent air. 

Every bone in Lili's body was soaked through with exhaustion. Every muscle that cradled those bones was taut with rage. The skin wrapped about her suddenly felt too thin to keep from bursting. 

_Sometimes, Miss Lee, it will all feel like too much. _

The memory ran through her head as if called by instinct.

And what do I do for those times, Professor? What can I do? 

He had turned away.

Wormwood and asphodel in small doses, Miss Lee. A temporary but effective alternative to death… 

Lili felt her muscles snap as she stood, rising almost to Hermione's shuddering eyes. She met them, with rage, with terror, with exhaustion and a thousand other waves of feeling she couldn't depress. "I would advise you, Miss Granger, to mind your own damned business." 

She smoothed at her robes, and, grabbing the mugwort order, shoved it out sharply towards Ann. The older witch took it, hands trembling unabashedly.

Hermione hadn't moved, eyes grasping Lili by the throat, demanding of her every ache and pain and tightening of the wrack and the screw. Any Gryffindor compassion that might have once been there, was replaced by another trait of Godric's crowd—the knee-jerk judgment…

_For such a know-it-all, you don't know anything,_ Lili snarled internally, picking up her bag and making for the door with a gait stilted by rage. _You don't know what darkness really is…_

Ripping open the door, she realized Hermione was following her, still demanding her pain. She whipped around, catching the other witch's eyes so violently, that, even through her rage, Hermione stepped back. 

"Miss Granger, I will be overjoyed when you and that bastard child you're brewing are comfortably elsewhere and out of my sight," she spat, eyes narrowing and teeth grinding to dust in her mouth.  

Seeing the other woman's lips part and sink from ire to hurt gave her a brief but gratifying rush.

She left, slamming the door behind her.

******************

A/N: I got it out by Sunday! Yea! Actually, it's rather a short chapter, but that's mostly because the next chapter is going to be long. Just to whet your appetite, I've been looking forward to Chapter Four since Chapter 13 or _We Are the Night_. :o) It will be the last chapter I'm able to write before going to Beijing, but I think it will be an excellent stopping point…

Oh, I forgot to mention last time; the quote "When I start forgetting things you can light my funeral pyre and put me on it" comes from _I, Claudius_, one of my favorite books/mini-series. I've used a few more references, but I can't think of them just off the top of my head…

I must give Fidelis Haven her/his dues: I used the phrase "Godric's crowd," which you mentioned in your review. Thank you: I need all the help I can get sometimes…

As always let me know what you think. Is Hermione still in character? Is Lili still interesting? (Actually this chapter is not much: mostly just a transition, but please, let me know your thoughts…) 

Alright, well I'm off to have a fun 20th birthday! Hope everyone enjoys. Next chapter _will_ be done by next Sunday, June 16th.


	5. Your Scent Still Lingers

_Chapter Four_: Your Scent Still Lingers

_Go home_. 

That was all he could say. _Go home, Lili. There's nothing we can do about Junia right now._

She had never seen Lang so distraught: she was given to wonder whether his emotion was for the loss of Junia or the loss of an inside contact. Neither, she supposed, would surprise her.

She pulled out her wand and flicked it at the door knob. Nothing happened. She reached down and twisted it. It was unlocked. 

_Odd_… Olivia would have left an hour earlier for a late shift at the Café.

She raised her wand again, pushing the door open carefully. It was the second day she'd had to enter her apartment this way, and she wondered if such nervousness was well-founded or a tad too jittery…

A loud squawk erupted as she entered. Hurriedly laying down her bag, she followed the sound of rustling, excited claws, wand held out in front of her like a sword.

Artibius was sitting on the kitchen table, puffing up and clawing at the wood.  

"What, you daft bat? Why do you—"

But she fell off.

She couldn't comprehend the sight for several seconds, barely able to concoct some semblance of a smile. 

"Lili." Draco Malfoy said, standing and continuing to pet Artibius gently. "Finally."

"Dr-raco. How did you get in?" It was a poor attempt at sounding off-hand. She tried to straighten her smile a little to compensate.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see Draco; in fact, at any other time she might have been glad for the visit. As with Snape, it had been a long time since she'd been able to meet Draco for anything other than business. She wanted to know how things were going—things outside their normal realm of discussion; but today, just after the news about Junia, his presence didn't feel right. And, more unnerving, he had been there alone, with a golden opportunity to dig through any and everything. She mentally ran through what she had lying about, trying to think of anything that might have looked suspicious. 

Luckily for her, she mused, she was Slytherin enough to know what things to keep lying about just in case…

Draco smiled, pulling out a chair and motioning for her to sit. She did.

"Your roommate let me in as she was leaving. About an hour ago, I'd say." He scooted into his own seat again, thin fingers stroking Artibius' back absent-mindedly. "I told her my name and that I wanted to see you, and she let me right in. Some Auror." He snorted.

_That's why she's still in training…_ Lili made a mental note to discuss this with her later tonight.

"And what _is_ it that brings you here? You never visit my place…" She tried to sit back, forcing her muscles to take on at least the semblance of relaxation.

As Draco's grin tilted, his entire face took on a quite familiar sparkle, steel and smirk. He had grown into a remarkable image of his father; same broad shoulders, gold-white hair and pressed tight smile. But she had many an opportunity to see the two Malfoys together, and there remained something in Draco—something that made him different and distinctly less imposing. She saw it now glint across the pale glass of his gaze. "I just wanted to talk to you about the wedding." 

It took Lili a moment to place the words. After several blank seconds, her mind flashed to a crème and gold invitation sitting somewhere in the stack of old papers beside her bed. "Oh, your wedding. Yours and Dia's, I mean." 

Draco tried to keep the smile pressed in his cheeks with minimal success. "Yes. It's this Sunday." 

She nodded. She hadn't given the invitation a second thought after tearing it from its delicate gold-leaf envelope, telling herself she was simply too busy to attend; but, she knew, beneath that, somewhere untouched, other less readily confronted reluctance lurked…

"Look, Lili," Draco said, leaning forward and abandoning the smile altogether. "Dia wants you to come. So do I. When we didn't get your RSVP card, well—she made me promise I'd come to talk you into it." He reached forward and touched her hand lightly. "I know, well, maybe you might—that is Dia's afraid you might be a little upset—" He stopped, apparently deciding against this line of thought. She shifted her fingers under his, and he withdrew his hand sharply. "Well, anyway, you hardly see Dia anymore, and all of Hogwarts is—" He straightened and tried to fit the suave mask of his father's across his features. It fit with a mixture of coolness and discomfort. "Hogwarts was a long time ago. We want you to be there—please?" He truly had the voice of a Malfoy: even a request became commanding.

She didn't answer, appraising the cool glimmer in his eyes. _He thinks I'm still pining after him_, she slowly realized, watching his hand float, nervous, between his lap and Artibius. 

It had been true: for a time Lili had indeed felt a sting seeing Draco and Dia together. It had been difficult, losing that closeness with Draco and having it handed, instead, to her once best friend. But the first time she had seen Dia gliding about Malfoy Manor alongside Mrs. Malfoy, discussing plans for redecorating the upstairs drawing room— she understood that such a life would never have suited her. 

After all, two years had passed, and despite any glimmers of hope she saw in Draco's eyes, he remained on path which would lead him to claim not only his father's estates but his elder's cruelty and cold indifference as well. And she had no desire to end up with a junior Lucius Malfoy.

No, she didn't care about Draco and Dia. Let them get married and have little baby Malfoys and live happily ever after.

Or perhaps it was that 'happily ever after' that chaffed so harshly against her sense of justice. She couldn't stand the thought of attending their wedding, watching everyone so happy and coupled when she, in some desperate attempt to "do the right thing," was so—

Just say it Lili. Just admit it to yourself… 

So alone. 

Draco leaned forward trying to catch her eye.

She snapped back, glimpsing his stiff, down-turned lips. 

"Well don't answer all at once," he said, quickly tucking his hurt look behind the Malfoy mask.

Lili was reminded of a time when he'd said those words to her with a light-hearted roll of the eyes and weak smile. It had been two years earlier—nervous, young, and asking her to the Yule Ball. 

_Oh yes, after all, it's been two years…we've all changed._

She smiled faintly--or tried at any rate. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's nothing to do with you. I'm just a little distracted you know." She considered the words quickly before adding, "It's the news about Junia, I guess. It's got me a bit flummoxed." Her gaze reached out, probing his pale eyes and searching desperately for something—anything.

She wasn't disappointed. Draco sat back, thankfully looking less hurt. "Ahh, I should have known. Always business." His lips pressed but were unable to form a smile.  "Well, yes, I guess I was a little shocked when I heard about it." 

_Ahh,_ she thought, trying to hold back a smirk. Draco, for every inch he looked his father, lacked the elder's cunning and shrewdness by half. She leaned forward, brow knit solemnly, ready to hear every word said—_and _those that weren't.

"As soon as I heard about it this morning, I went to see my father. I mean, it's a strange occurrence and we didn't hear a peep about it." His eyes shifted over her, questioning. "At least, I didn't."

She shook her head.

"Well, I asked him what happened; why on earth the Dark Lord would want to kill one of his most trusted servants. Junia had been with him since the earliest times of his ascension, and then, suddenly, he up and decides to murder her and dump her in some Muggle street? Something was missing, didn't add up."

She tried to feign a curious nod, but ominous knowing burned in the pit of her stomach. 

"She was a spy."

He leaned low toward the table now, voice collapsed to a whisper. She did her best to seem utterly shocked, managing to raise a trembling hand to her mouth. _How much more does he know, I wonder…_Perhaps that was the elder Malfoy's weakness, trusting his son too far…

"A spy? How—I mean, how did they find out?"

Draco shrugged sinking back again, pale eyes fixed on Artibius. "Father didn't know. But apparently the Dark Lord has suspected her for some time. Then, when he was certain his suspicions were indeed true, he and some others went to find her in France."

Lili swallowed. She could imagine it: Junia in some hotel room, or maybe out on a nighttime stroll. And they came up behind her, tied her, probably roughed her up and brought her back—to _him_. Lili knew better than to think about what must have happened afterwards, her heart already hammering ferociously, threatening to leap up her throat. 

She couldn't afford much rumination; any silence might give her away. "That sly bitch," she choked, the words stabbing through the weak lump of her tongue. 

Draco nodded, face suddenly drawing in on itself, tight and pondering. 

She recognized the expression. _There's more…_She leaned in, lips parted and dry. "What? What else?"

 He was obviously loath to continue.

"Draco—what is it? Is something wrong?" This time it was she who reached out, touching his hand lightly.

He stopped biting his lower lip and swallowed with a nod. "Father also told me that they found out, torturing her, that she was working with at least one other, probably more."

The words hit her like a speeding train, razing across the thin walls of her heart. She drew her hand away from his slowly. "More—spies?" Her voice was shaking, barely able to squeeze through her constricted throat. Her mind flew into a frantic whirl, desperate to shake Draco of all he knew. "Do—do they know who? How many?"

Long years seemed to pass as she watched him, sitting, waiting to hear the death sentence. If they knew, it was already too late…

He sighed. "Well, they have their suspicions. Father wouldn't tell me much except that they managed to get one name out of her. She died quite suddenly, sooner than they expected under the torture, but they did get one name before she was gone."

"Who?" Her breaths were coming slow and hot, her brain pounding against her skull. Only a thin veil across her eyes hid her panic from the outside world…

"I don't know," he said at last. "Father wouldn't tell me of course."

_Damn._ She cursed, leaning back and grinding the ball of her foot into the ground painfully. _Damn him. Of course he wouldn't tell Draco…_

They both sat a long while, silent, keeping eyes away from each other. Lili reached out, letting her hands wind down Artibius' back in some attempt to steady herself. 

_One name. _One tiny word she had given them, and it brought the whole world crashing down. It could have been "Lili." It could have been "Snape." It could have been someone sitting elsewhere, filled with as much dread and rage as she…

Even with a wand pointed between your eyes, Miss Lee, you must always stay calm. 

He had pulled out a wand and illustrated the point. 

If you don't learn this simple lesson, you'll give yourself away, and believe me, no one will try to save you… One deep breath and a straight back. "Well, I know the Dark Lord will find them. And kill them as they deserve." She pressed a difficult grin, trying to act as though the matter was closed. "And, as for your wedding, I'll be there, of course. I just—well, I'm afraid I lost the invitation. You know how disorganized I am."   

_Of course I'll go now, she moaned internally. __I can't afford to arouse even the slightest suspicion._

If it's not already too late, that is…

Draco's painfully solemn face erupted into a suave grin. He suddenly became Lucius Malfoy once again, and she felt herself steeling, strength and caution beating through her veins.

"Wonderful!" he said, giving Artibius one final pet down the nose. "Dia will be happy to hear it." He gave her a smaller, more genuine smile as he stood. "I'm happy too. You—well, I'll be glad seeing you there."

She nodded, accompanying him to the apartment door. "You should drop by more often," she said, hoping he wouldn't take the offer too seriously. Draco was a decent man, but he was, unfortunately, weighed with too many dangers, traps, and bits of foul news.

"Of course, of course," he said with a sweep of his hand that told her he was merely being polite. He opened the door and, striding the threshold, gave her a tilted smirk. "And don't you have a birthday coming up soon, I believe?"

_Say no, say no, her mind begged her. The Malfoys always sent her incredibly expensive, elaborate and wondrous gifts for her birthday: and she couldn't use a single one without feeling a guilty, fearful tug at her heart._

"Yes, in, well, less than two weeks now." 

"Well then, I suppose I'll have to go shopping." Taking her hand, he bent down and kissed it lightly. 

It was too much in the manner of his father for her not to feel ice grip her stomach. She forced a weak smile. 

"I'll see you in a few days," she said, taking the door knob in her sweating hand. "Tell Dia I'm looking forward to seeing her."

"I will," he said, several steps away, gray robes twirling elegantly. "Good day, Lili."

But she had already closed the door, and, sure all prying eyes were finally elsewhere, she charged across the flat to retrieve her brandy. 

It's not as good as wormwood and asphodel, but it will have to do for now… 

She collapsed onto the sofa, nursing the bottle vigorously.

************************

"_Ai-ya, xiao nu. Wo danxin de yaoming." Hui was sitting limp against his frame, inky black eyes thin and downturned. He had been chronically gloomy ever since she'd explained her situation to him; but he was beginning to look even worse now, thin lines snaking across his old face, black and deep with worry._

"I know, Hui," she sighed, tracing her finger around the lip of the empty bottle. "I'm worried too. Frankly, if it wasn't for The Banshee's Best here, I'd probably be too afraid to think straight." Though after half a bottle her thoughts weren't at their peak, she was at least able to detach herself from the fear for a few hours and consider her options.

"_Ni yao zuo shenme ya?" Hui asked, watching Artibius turn in Lili's lap, half-asleep. _

She leaned back on the bed, propping up on one elbow just enough to see Hui. "I don't know. I'm not sure there's anything I _can do." She raised the bottle to her mouth, hoping._

_No, it's empty, she decided, and not for the first time that night._

"What I really need to do," she said through a yawn of liquored breath, "is talk to Snape. Meet with him. Warn him. I can't go through the Ministry—they ask too many questions and would surely panic and do something stupid enough to get us both killed." She sighed. "And obviously I can't do it through the Circle. But he needs to know. He needs to be –preparing himself."

Though this was true, part of her knew it wasn't the only reason she wanted to see Snape. She could simply write him a letter and send it through an anonymous owl from the post office; but she wanted to see him, talk with him, for her _own comfort. He might have answers, ideas—anything more than what little she had come up with…_

She heard the slight click of the front door echo through the silent flat. She turned to glance at the clock on her bedside table. 3:18. 

It was Olivia coming home from work: she hadn't realized it was so late…

"_He zhu zhi fu," she sighed, looking up at Hui through tired eyes. "I'm a carp in a dry rut; all I can do is flop around and hope someone helps me…"_

Hui smiled slightly, yawning himself. "Well, as they say, when you stop looking for help, it pours into your lap like a shower from Heaven." He pulled together several large piles of leaves and laid his head down on them softly. "You'll see—help will come from someone…" He yawned again, and his already thin, painted eyes were narrowing to sleepy lines. "_Wan an, xiao nu. Tomorrow—things will be different tomorrow, I promise you."_

She started to wish him pleasant dreams, but a second later, his breathing was already slow and steady.

She leaned back, abandoning the bottle on the mattress beside her. _Help will come from someone…_

But who? Who would help her? She wasn't exactly rich in friends, and most of the people she did know were the precise ones she was trying to avoid. Snape was really the only person she could trust—perhaps Dumbledore, but the Ministry had been keeping close watch on him ever since he'd begun to criticize them publicly: even he would likely prove an unsafe person to contact Snape through.

Olivia's head poked around the cracked door, the rest of her body quickly following. "You still awake?" Spying the bottle, she added, "Must've been a hard day."

Lili merely nodded.

"Bad news from Malfoy?"

You could say that… 

"No. I've been invited to a wedding." She made no attempt to disguise her voice, letting it drip with ennui. "Actually the invitation was for two: wanna go?"

It had been a bit of a joke, but Olivia didn't seem to catch it. "Sure. Whose wedding?"

"Draco Malfoy and Dia Morrighan."

The other witch's smile took a strange turn, but not altogether an unpleasant one. "This will be a Slytherin affair then."

Lili shrugged. "Well, sort of. Might do you some good, though. _Know thy enemy, and all that." Her limbs were growing heavy, the weight of brandy gripping every vein. _

Olivia rolled her eyes but nodded. "Sure. I'll be there. When is it?"

"Sunday evening."

"Hmmm," she said, running a finger around the door knob in thought. "I'll have to switch shifts with someone that day. I'm working another late shift at the café." She spit this out with obvious distaste. "I swear, I don't even know why we're open so late at night. At this hour, no one is ever there: it's practically deserted…"

Lili shot up, heart racing. 

_Of course! Why hadn't she thought of it before? If there was one thing all her "friends" ignored, both Ministry and Death Eater alike, it was Muggles. No one would be watching a Muggle coffee shop, especially at night…_

She charged over to the door, took Olivia by the wrists and pulled her into the room. 

_But what to tell her…Olivia would have to be the one there, of course. But how could she explain a late night rendezvous with their ex-Potions Master? _

Another problem: could she trust Olivia to keep her mouth shut? This was the sort of delicate thing she _didn't want blabbed to every Auror at the Ministry._

She looked at Olivia, whose blue eyes were now wide and confused.

_Well, you'll just have to try; after all, she's not a Slytherin. Surely she would take the secret to her grave if Lili came up with some sort of Gryff-esque oath to make her swear by._

She reached up and closed the door lightly. _Well, here goes nothing…_

"Olivia, I have to ask you for a favor." She sat on the end of the bed, making her best pleading eyes. 

Olivia merely nodded, sitting beside her. Apparently, this was frightening her a little, her hands fidgeting carefully in her lap. 

Lili swallowed. All the weariness she had felt was gone, pushed aside by the rush of adrenalin snaking through her body. "Do you work the late shift again tomorrow night?"

"Y—yes?" 

"And you say that the place is almost always deserted--empty of _anyone?" _

"Yeah."

She looked down, trying to decide how to go about this. For the first time in a long while she didn't have to muster sincerity; she just hoped Olivia wouldn't put the pieces together…

"Olivia, I need to meet someone, and I'd like to do it at Café Midnight—tomorrow night. While you're on late shift." 

Olivia's eyes wavered, brow knitting. "Meet who?"

Lili swallowed. "I'll tell you, but, Olivia, this _must stay a secret. You cannot tell __anyone that we've met or—"_

"Okay, okay: who is it?" Though she wasn't smiling, Lili could hear excitement in her voice.

"No, I'm serious, Olivia. You have to promise me you won't tell _a single living soul. Promise?" She leaned forward sharply, pressing the point with her eyes._

Olivia seemed to understand the severity and nodded.

She paused a moment, trying to decide if she had the strength to say it. 

Come on, just say it. Flat out is the least suspicious… 

"It's Snape," she said, voice a little softer than she'd intended.

Olivia's face erupted, lips parting in disgust, eyes narrowing as if she had suddenly become nauseous. "Snape? You mean, Professor Snape, from Hogwarts?"

Lili nodded. "Yes, Professor Snape. We need to meet around midnight, and we'll need privacy—"

She stopped. Olivia's disgust had transformed into knowing shock. 

Her heart sank: perhaps she had given the other witch short shrift…the pieces appeared to be falling into place.

"What?" Lili asked at length, mind whirring, trying to formulate some way of convincing Olivia she wasn't really a Death Eater without having to give away too much sensitive information or endanger the Min—

"You and Professor Snape?" Olivia said, less disgust in her voice but the same wide shock. "You and slimy, greasy-haired, yellow-skinned, 'ten points from Gryffindor' Professor Snape?" 

Her stomach lurched forward. No, she didn't think…

_Of course she does, stupid_. What does a late night, secret meeting between a man and a woman usually mean? 

She looked at Olivia and, though her stomach was roiling, simply nodded.

I suppose it can't hurt to let her think… 

The other witch breathed out heavily, cheeks puffing and wide eyes expressing her utter inability to comprehend such a thing. "I can understand why you'd want it to stay a secret. Well, don't worry; I like my friends to be able to keep their lunches, thank you."

That was some comfort. Perhaps it would be best to play up this angle; without actually saying anything out and out…

"It's very important," she heard herself saying, trying to feign something in her voice—she wasn't sure if it was love-sickness or desperation. "Please."

Olivia looked at her a moment, and the incredulity dropped from her lips, the sharpness faded from her eyes. The look made Lili shiver: she was no longer being watched by a sickened ex-Gryffindor, but by a concerned—she paused before thinking the word—_friend_. 

Apparently, Lili, you have one more friend than you counted on… 

She jumped as the other witch reached out and laid a gentle hand on her knee. 

"Well, we'll have to work on your taste in men a bit, but this is an excellent first step towards actually appearing to have real human emotion." She smirked.

Lili felt a chuckle escape her, something she would have imagined impossible not five minutes previous. Shaking her head and trying to look more exasperated than relieved, she sat up straight and mock-serious. "And that was an excellent first step towards biting, Slytherin sarcasm, Miss Birch." 

Olivia's smile pursed. "Wow." 

There was a slight pause. 

"What?"

More silence and pursed lips.

"What?!"

The other woman's smile softened. "Oh, it's just, when you called me 'Miss Birch' there—you, erm, well you sounded exactly like him."

Oh no…please don't get mushy… 

"It's very sweet," she continued, making her most adorable and, in Lili's opinion, disgustingly happy face. "Maybe you weren't so off after all…"

Lili was afraid for a moment that Olivia might reach out and pinch her cheeks. "I suppose a moment of Slytherin is all I can expect from you," she snapped, pulling her leg out from under the other woman's hand.

"Yes, well, once a Gryff, always a Gryff," she sighed, standing with an impish grin. "But you should be glad of that for once, because it's my sentimental Gryffindor heart that's going to make me help you out. Tomorrow night, midnight. Tell Romeo I'll be sure no one finds out."

Lili felt a retort rising, but bit it back. 

"Thanks."

Olivia's grin widened and even, Lili was amazed to note, tilted in an all too Slytherin fashion. "Now don't go trying too many human emotions in one night: gratitude and love? You might pull something…"

Lili laid back on her bed with a smile, Artibius and Hui already snoring softly. She yawned. "You know, Olivia, I think I'm a bad influence on you."

"Not nearly as bad as you think." She flipped the light switch and opened the door to exit. "'Night, Lili." 

But the combination of Banshee's Best and pure emotional exhaustion had already carried Lili away to the distant peace of dreams.

*****************

She stole another glance at the clock. 12:06. 

_Stop looking_, she chided herself, turning her eyes back down to the book in front of her forcefully. Olivia was watching from across the café, pretending to give the counters another good buff.

She fingered the next page of her book and turned it absent-mindedly. _He'll be here_. _He has to come_. 

She had rented an anonymous owl from the Post that morning. She had even gone to the trouble of putting it in Olivia's name, just in case. It was supposed to deliver the letter to him privately in his office: Snape getting mail would be far too suspicious a sight for the Great Hall.

Meet me tonight at Café Midnight, London, 12 o'clock. My roommate has assured me it will be deserted and unwatched. We have to talk about something…Lili

She had included a map, certain Snape wasn't the sort to go about visiting Muggle coffee houses in his spare time…

_Then again, I'm not the type either_, she thought, pulling at the neck of her shirt half-heartedly. She wasn't used to Muggle clothing. In fact, she'd been forced to borrow this from Olivia's closet--a green shirt and black skirt that fit far too snuggly for her liking. Olivia assured her this was "sexy," but, at this particular moment, looking sexy was the farthest thing from her mind…

She began to glance at the clock but stopped herself, keeping her head stiff over the book. _Just read, and he'll be here soon._

Several more pages slid past, a distinct sinking in her heart. _Well_, she supposed _it had been a bit of a gamble_. Snape was always very cautious, and this was certainly a risk. He had probably decided to ignore the letter and try to find out the information in some other way. Or perhaps he'd made the same assumption as Olivia…     

A tiny bell tinkled, and Lili's eyes shot up. 

He was standing in the doorway, sour discomfort etched across his face. His lips were drawn in a stern line, dark eyes twinkling unhappily around the empty cafe. He pulled at the collar of his long-sleeved shirt, which was, to Lili's surprise, not black but a deep claret. It was the first time she had seen him in anything but black, and the color seemed to bring some warmth to his normally sallow features. 

He tromped over towards Lili's table, scowling briefly at Olivia as he went. 

Lili stood, giving Olivia only a sideways glance. The yellow-haired witch was smiling, trying to busy herself without having to take her eyes away.

The clicking of his feet slowed as he neared her, fingers falling away from the neck of his shirt to the edge of table. He, too, was obviously uncomfortable in the odd clothing and took a moment before saying anything. "Miss Lee." 

She did her best to look over him only circumspectly, but couldn't help noticing that he seemed oddly different. His face was thin and worried, but his frowning eyes and lank form struck her violently. In the Muggle clothes she could see him: not as a teacher, a professor, a fellow agent, but as a _person_. He suddenly seemed much more fragile--real—not the invincible and cold ghost that haunted the dungeons of Hogwarts. 

Her heart ached a little at the realization; he was just as vulnerable as anyone else…

She took a deep breath and was greeted with the familiar scent of a hundred fermented potion ingredients. The smell steadied her a little, and she realized quite suddenly that she was now staring.

"Red?" she attempted quickly, pointing at his abnormally colorful clothes and hoping that a tinge of Slytherin coolness would put them both more at ease.

"Dumbledore's," he snarled, pulling a seat out from the table and sinking into it with the deliberate slowness of a coiling snake.

She sighed. He was in a foul mood—the conversation would likely be terse and unpleasant. This, she supposed, wasn't surprising as most conversations with Snape could be described as such, but she could always hope…

She sat. "Well, it's a nice color for you, if that's any consolation." 

This seemed only to heighten his discomfort, and he straightened, casting his eyes about in an attempt to ignore what she'd said. "What are you reading?"

Of course. Always on the offensive in conversation…always the one interrogating and judging…

She acquiesced, giving a slight grin and brushing at the pages in front of her. "It's Chinese poetry by Li Bai. A friend of mine gave it to me as an early birthday present."

He arched an eyebrow and turned the book towards him. She'd always suspected him as a reader of poetry—even if it wasn't something he went about readily advertising. He glanced at the words now with the quick eye and deep rhythmic voice of a connoisseur:

"It's been three years. Your scent still lingers,

your scent gone, yet never-ending. 

But now you're gone, never to return,

thoughts of you yellow leaves falling,

white dew glistening on green moss."

Something in the way he read it—every word flowing and baritone—made her look at the poem again, searching for something she'd missed on first glance. 

He pushed the book away quickly, shifting in his seat and forcing an appraising frown. "A little simple."

She smiled weakly. _Should have known._

How could she have expected Snape to be a romantic, really? Even five lines seemed to have made him uncomfortable, and she watched him for a moment as he lurked on the other side of the table, running his finger across the thin edge of a spoon.

"Can I get either of you anything?" Olivia had worked up the courage to approach them and was now standing over the table, beaming with all her might.

"Uhh, some tea," Lili managed giving Olivia a weak smile. "Earl Grey with one sugar."

Olivia nodded. "And, erm, for you, Professor?" Her voice shook with the pressure of attempting nonchalance. 

Snape didn't look up, barely opening his mouth to bark the words. "Tea. Darjeeling."

Olivia blinked, as if uncertain how to respond. Eventually she merely swallowed and walked away, hurrying to prepare the drinks. 

Taking only a moment to be sure she was gone, Snape let out a deep snarl. "What did you tell her? I don't believe Miss Birch is a very good choice for secret keeper." 

Oh, he isn't going to like this… 

She cleared her throat, trying to prepare herself for whatever uncomfortable territory this would lead them into. "Actually, I didn't tell her anything except that she absolutely couldn't tell anyone else." It wasn't a lie, strictly speaking.

"You didn't tell her anything, and she just…agreed?" His long fingers continued their track around the edges of his spoon as he glared across the table.

Tell him, Lili. Just bite the bullet and tell him… 

She leaned in. "Well, I think she assumed it was some sort of romantic—" No fitting word came. She grasped about desperately. 'Liason' felt sleazy, and 'affair' was definitely not an option. 

"Err, thing. Some romantic _thing_." Her throat was tight in a constricted whisper.

Snape sat back, watching her over his hooked nose, eyes flat and unyielding.

"I know," Lili said quickly, sure to give him no time to respond. "I know. But I think we should—" 

Her insides twisted, seeing him arch an eyebrow. 

"We should—I don't know—play along. It will at least keep her from thinking too hard about what this meeting could _really_ mean."

She swallowed again, her throat uncontrollably dry. He was being too quiet. She had expected some sort of snide remark or disgusted face—but he merely sat, watching her with his deep-cut frown. 

And she knew too well that's Snape silence was the most worming and dangerous response he could offer…

She braced herself.

"Very well. If you think that's best." He nodded. 

Silence while her muscles unwound like loosed springs. 

"Oh. Okay."

She took a moment to look him over again. His easy assent was something she'd never expected. She'd at least expected him to accept more uncomfortably, with more Snape-like grumbles. Afterall, it was an awkward insinuation: to pretend a romantic—_thing_—with an ex-student…secretly. Even she felt her stomach turn a little. 

But he's a professional, she reminded herself. _He's spent the last twenty years pretending to be something he's not…_

What was one more pretense to either of them? What was one more person's misjudgment?

She leaned farther forward, straightening her napkin and spoon in an attempt to distance herself from such thoughts. She breathed deeper, pushing down her discomfort as he had taught her so many years earlier. It was another breath filled with the smell of the Hogwarts dungeons, and she marveled at how long it had been since she'd felt that stiff scent envelop her.

The memory made her stomach stop turning. She looked up and met his flat eyes with a tilted grin. 

"Well, you know, if we're going to do this," she said, feeling more comfortable in her Slytherin tone of voice. "You should at least _pretend_ to be happy to see me." 

This seemed to catch him off-guard, and, meeting Lili's smirk, he granted her a tiny break in the ice. "Miss Lee, under different circumstances, I would be quite happy to see you," he said, eyes flitting across the room as if embarrassed to say so.

Olivia re-entered at just the right moment to catch Snape's small grin. She fumbled with the tray of tea and almost lost it completely.

"Oh!" she said, doing her best to recover. "Sorry, sorry. Here you go. Earl Grey." She handed Lili a large cup. "And Darjeeling."

Snape's face was sour once more, and he yanked the cup from Olivia's hand without a word. 

"Oh, and I brought you a little something on the house." She laid a plate between them.

Lili came quite close to spitting her tea across the table. Snape merely stared down in disgust. 

The plate was laden with small, heart-shaped biscuits. Inwardly, Lili burst into laughter.

"Enjoy," Olivia said, giving Lili a wink and hurrying out of the room once more. 

Snape pushed the plate away deliberately before taking a long draw on his tea. His face seemed to, incomprehensibly, grow even more disgusted.

"Something wrong?"

"I should have known," he said, his thin, ceramic cup hitting the table with a tutting clink. "I had the girl in Potions for seven years—I should have known she couldn't even get a simple cup of tea right." He leaned back, light shifting across his face and striking the red of his shirt in a way that made his skin seem oddly warm. "I almost said 'ten points from Gryffindor.' Amazing, the habits one gets into."

She smiled in earnest now, taking a sip at her own tea. It had no sugar, and she had to begrudgingly admit that Snape was right about Olivia's skills with preparing liquids of any sort. She could only imagine what horrors Olivia had managed in Snape's class…

"You could get another, if you like?" she offered, abandoning her own cup and feeling more at ease.

"No, no. Please," he said, sighing and pinching at the bridge of his nose irritably. "Just tell me what this is about. I can only assume it's important if you insist on calling me to a Muggle café to pretend romantic relations in the middle of the night."

Ahh, a much more Snape-esque response. This at least made put her on familiar playing ground: business was easy—it was normal human relations that made conversation with Snape more difficult…

"I talked with Draco Malfoy yesterday. He was waiting for me at my apartment when I got home." 

Snape's hand fell from his face, and the deep stillness of his gaze let her know he understood.

She sighed, unsure how to deliver the rest of this news. "He came by to ask me to he and Dia's wedding this Sunday. I assume you were invited?"

Snape nodded with a snort.

"But, well, we got to talking…" She swallowed. "About Junia." 

Snape's eyes connected with hers, ferociously attentive. Somehow, she felt as though a fire was being lit in her chest, heat from his gaze.

"They have a name."

He sat for a few moments in grim comprehension, eyes falling heavy to the table before him. "A name?"

"Yes. Only one. Draco said she died unexpectedly under torture." A knowing glance passed between them: they both understood what this had been like, both had seen and heard it before. "But they got one name."

The light seemed unwilling to touch his eyes, yet they gleamed with grieved darkness. She had seen him this grim only once before: the day he had visited her at Malfoy Manor and held her burned arm in his hand…

"It's me." 

She swallowed, a deep burning behind her eyes, a reluctance to consider this seizing her entire body. "We don't know that. It could just as well be—me. Or…was there anyone else she knew about?"

His mouth barely opened as he spoke. "I don't know. We aren't supposed to know the names of anyone else. But she knew at least of one other--of that I'm sure."

Lili wanted to ask whom, but, under the circumstances, knew better. She settled for a grave nod.

They sat in silence for a long while, diving in and out of thought. Lili was trying desperately to consider the consequences and ignore them all at once. She was used to seeing a bleak future stare back at her: but this—this could mean _no_ future. Or a future she didn't want to envision. 

She glanced across the table at Snape, trying to imagine that he was right: that it _was _his name. To think he would be gone: that the dungeons of Hogwarts would be taken over by another…that few would likely mourn him…and that he would die, screaming, begging—as they all did before the end…

Her eyes snagged his briefly, and she was barely able to swallow her sorrow.

"Thank you," he said finally. "It's good that I heard this now. Whatever comes, it's better it not come—unexpected."

She nodded slowly, mouth pushed tight to keep from betraying her emotion.

He pulled a wad of Muggle money from one of his pockets and laid it gently on the table. "I suppose that's enough," he said as he started to rise.

"Wait."

She couldn't stop the words, a sickening feeling of panic crawling up and strangling her heart. "What—you're going?" She had been unable to mask the desperation in her voice, and, looking back at her wide, green eyes, Snape froze and sat again. 

"Is there more?" he asked, settling back into the chair uncomfortably. 

She scrambled for something to say, something to make him stay. She couldn't stand to be left alone with the weight of this, with so many horrible visions playing in her head. "Well, no, but—I just thought maybe we could discuss what we should do."

Snape's thin, white lips cracked into what seemed to Lili an obscenely inappropriate smile. "'Do,' Miss Lee?" he asked, shaking his head. "There isn't anything we can _do_." Seeing her disapproval at his sneering dismissal, he straightened his mouth into it usual frown and shrugged heavily. "What's happened has happened: finding a way out of this is—impossible."

Her heart plummeted down to her stomach. _No. No_. He couldn't be giving up so easily. This was the same Severus Snape who had lectured her endlessly on ingenuity and solving every problem with the intellect. This was the same Snape who, two years previous, hadn't let her give up hope—who had led her through the darkest sadness and showed her a way to live. And now, faced with a situation even grimmer still, he was contented himself to stand up and leave her sitting there, letting fate do as it willed? 

No, no. I won't let him do this. To himself, to me… 

She straightened her back and ran her fingers around the edge of her tea cup carefully. She was doing her best to imitate his lecturing stance, but found her own posture far more quiet and reserved, more reminiscent of Dumbledore's meandering stories... 

Well, you could do worse, Lili… 

She cleared her throat purposefully: in this, at least, she managed enough of Snape's demanding composure to get his attention. "You know, when I first arrived at Zhong Mo Xue, let's see, well, more than nine years ago now—I had the worst difficulties. I couldn't learn the language, I had no friends, and people made fun of me because I learned so slowly." She paused, giving Snape a chance to object. If he was confused by the turn of the conversation, he didn't show it. "Two months in, the Headmaster called me into his office and asked me what was wrong. And I told him, breaking down into tears, that no one would talk to me and that I couldn't even learn simple things because speaking Chinese was impossible." She forgot for a moment where she was, remembering Headmaster Zhi's peaceful gaze and smiling, lined face. He had listened, silent, tugging lightly at the end of his whispy, white beard…"And, you know what he said? He quoted me a proverb." She swallowed, meeting Snape's eyes with as much strength as she could find in her. "_Shan gao, shui chang: you he bu ke?_" She spoke the words clearly and slowly, watching Snape take in every syllable with a deliberate gaze. "It means, 'Mountains are tall, rivers are long: is _anything _impossible?" The sounds rang in her ears, and they still gripped at her heart, remembering the quiet, smiling face of her Headmaster…

Snape sat a moment, eyes distant, as if appraising the value of these words. 

"Poetic, but none too realistic, I'm afraid," he decided finally, voice caught between grief and impatience.

She let out a frustrated sigh, sitting back in her chair brusquely. Trying to encourage Severus Snape was about as pointless and dangerous an endeavor as trying to tickle a Norwegian Ridgeback. "Well then, let's just give up. Wait for the death sentence to come tapping us on the shoulder…or meet it like Junia did, in some dark alley on holiday…" She was teetering dangerously close to tears, and turned her face from his, cursing herself for losing control and trying to will the sorrow away.

His voice struck her ears, rough but not intentionally so. "Then what, Miss Lee, would you suggest we do?" It was not a challenge: merely a question.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her mind. "Go to the wedding," she sighed, making sure not to meet his eyes again. "If we don't, it could look suspicious. And there we can feel out the situation a bit more. I mean, the whole damn gang should be there."

Snape was silent for so long that Lili finally forced herself to look back at him questioningly.

He was leaning forward in his chair, dull eyes watching her with a strange warmth she had never before seen. His lips were parted slightly, his hands laced in front of his mouth in appraisal. 

  
He was impressed. He was impressed with her persistence and her answer. But it was different than the look she'd gotten for preparing a particularly difficult potion well…

No, he was looking at her in a different way: suddenly, she was his equal. Suddenly, she no longer felt pinned under his gaze—no longer appraised. She was overcome with urge to forget about Junia, about this whole situation, and merely engage him in a normal conversation, open and real. She wanted to speak to him as a human being—as a friend: and she knew now that this was possible…if only…

"You're right of course," he said, with an approving nod. "We'll go to the wedding on Sunday. See what can be seen, and hopefully, hear more than can be heard." 

She wrangled with his gaze, refusing to let go of what he had given her—refusing to let him slip back behind the stone mask of the dour Potions Master. "Professor—" 

It was a bad beginning to a discussion among equals, she decided, and, grabbing her courage together all at once, tried again. "Severus—"

His eyes widened a little but she ignored it, plunging forward anyway. _He'll just have to get used to it…_

"I just—how are you doing?" The words seemed awkward, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table, and she hurried to support them. "I just, well, I never have a chance to ask you that. Or to ask you anything really. How—have you been?" 

If she had been speaking Greek, perhaps Snape's harsh, confused face might have seemed fitting. 

_It must have been a long time since anyone asked_, Lili thought, refusing to give in to a face that was clearly meant to deter the question. 

She kept her eyes in his, unwavering.

He cleared his throat, shifting back in his seat and watching her with a mixture of bemusement and interest. "As always: happy, cheerful, savoring every day."

She couldn't help but smile. A Slytherin answer, to the very bone of it.

He seemed to enjoy her reaction, relaxing a little and laying a long, bony arm down on the table lightly. "Things are going as they always go, Miss Lee." He paused, and, considering for a moment, "Lili." 

Their eyes connected ,and they both understood. This was now a friendship—a Slytherin one, and a secret one at best—but it had crossed over, and she felt a smile she couldn't surpress.

"My students this term are—well, let's just say the best among them make Neville Longbottom look like a candidate for the Order of Merlin." He sneered, shaking his head. "And just the other day I had a student—"

She listened carefully, her brain barely able to comprehend the situation and keep up with what was being said all at once. Snape was speaking, and she was listening: but not as they had before. It was something she remembered from a time long before this. It was…a normal, friendly conversation. With Professor Snape.

_Severus_, she reminded herself. Severus.

Every next word seemed to come more easily to him, and by the time he'd finished relating the story, his sneer had tilted into somewhat of a smile. 

"Poppy had her work cut out for her after that one," he huffed. "I don't even know how they got in that position, but…" He trailed off, brushing over her face lightly with his black eyes. It was a face she had never seen from him: the face of a man whose burden is lifted, if even for a moment.

It didn't last long.

His face sank back to the table, and she could see his body trying to close back in on itself. She tried desperately to think of some reply, some word to encourage him to continue.

But she didn't need to try. He continued, though his entire body seemed sunk and weighted. 

"And then—there was Junia."

Lili felt her heart lurch. His voice had unraveled into a strained despondence, and she was afraid of what was to come…

His long fingers were resting on the spoon now, gripping it loosely, languidly. "I can't believe she's—gone." He swallowed, and Lili recognized the look of aborted tears. "It's just, we worked together so long. She knew the risks when she turned, but, don't we all? You just never expect it…" His eyes brushed hers, and he straightened a little, obviously still uncomfortable with such emotion. "She had a heart condition—that's probably why she died so unexpectedly under the torture. Perhaps lucky for her." He gritted his teeth a moment, and never having seen him show anger before, Lili sat back slightly. "It's a horrible life you lead when a heart condition can be counted a blessing in the end…"

The thought was heavy: too heavy for her. She felt the friendly conversation slip away, replaced with reality: the reality of two people utterly lost…

_Why?_ Why couldn't she merely have one normal friend? One normal day, free from pretense and planning and pretending to be a million things she hated. She wanted to smile, and not feel a weight pushing at her heart. She wanted to enjoy herself, without the wolf of reality running just at her heels…

But he was right, and there was no escaping it. 

And soon, it could be her, crumpled on the front page of the Daily Prophet just above quotes from Hermione Granger. _Yes, I always knew that Elizabeth Lee was a Death Eater…_

She began to feel tears stinging in her eyes, and this time, they came so rapidly she had no time to banish them. A sob bubbled out of her throat, loud, and she leaned forward on the table, covering her face from Snape's sight, trying to force herself back into submission.

And all at once, she felt a strange warmth surround her. It was one she'd felt only once before—two years earlier—and one she'd never thought she'd feel again. 

She parted her hands, and Snape's lips were on her cheek, pressed light and tender, his scent seeping into her with a smooth heat. She opened her eyes wide and saw his looking back, stare as black and close as the surface of a night-clad lake. The soft warmth of his skin danced close to hers, long hair ticking her cheeks as he pulled away. She wished at once he wouldn't move away; she had begun to lose herself, her weight, in that moment—in the contact so sudden and enveloping…

For a moment after, she saw nothing and felt nothing, still reeling from the kiss. She felt as if she'd woken from a dream and forgotten her place and reality. She was only vaguely aware of Snape's eyes, flitting over her as he sat back, shifting uneasily.

"Oh! Oh, I—I'm so sorry! I'll just…be…in the kitchen…" 

Lili looked up, snapped back into reality. 

Olivia was standing just inside the café, looking positively mortified. She was glancing between Lili and Snape quickly, fumbling to make her way back into the kitchen.

Lili swallowed, afraid to meet Snape's eyes.

Afraid but every limb trembling with a rush of shock… 

"Please forgive me, Miss Lee." His voice was low, and she could tell he was fighting to keep it level and matter-of-fact. "I had no other choice. You were crying—and I saw Miss Birch come in—" He was stumbling in a way thoroughly unlike himself. "And since we are trying to make her think, well, it didn't seem fitting that she should see you cry—"

"I understand," she said quickly. She didn't really understand, but didn't want to hear him tumble over explanations, making an already awkward situation more unpleasant. She swallowed and wiped at her cheek without thinking.

She understood the action to some degree: she was crying and he was looking grim—hardly the scene they were trying to portray for Olivia. The kiss was to quiet her and scare Olivia away. Rational. Cut and dry. Just as they pretended coolness at Death Eater meetings. 

 __

_He had no other choice_. 

She told herself this and didn't allow her mind to question it further.

He had no other choice.

She straightened, doing her best to ignore the panicked fluttering in her stomach.

"I—should be going." Snape stood, pushing forward the wad of Muggle money once more, his face taut and angry, as it always was when he felt particularly embarrassed.

But she was in no mood to disagree. The kiss had drained her strength, and it was all she could do to stand, feeling disoriented and awkward. "Yes, it's getting late." She swallowed. 

All that they had built up, crashing down because of one tiny…

_No, not tiny_. Anything that could make her shake from nervous tension was _not _tiny. 

She tried to smile at him but it was too twisted to be recognizable as such. "I'll see you at the wedding on Sunday then."

He nodded curtly, eyes darting across everything but her. He was obviously anxious to make his retreat…

It was the first time she'd seen him cowed. It was not a sight she cared for.

The bell tinkled again, sounding heavy, as he opened to the door to leave. Instead he rushed headlong into another man. 

"Oh, er, excuse me," the other man said, as Snape stepped back to let him in. He was a thin wisp of a being with skin so white it out-sallowed even Snape's. His tiny, wire-rimmed spectacles reminded Lili of beady, blind mole eyes, and he swept them for a long while between she and Snape, as if wanting to ask something. 

Snape brushed past him and was half-way out the door when Olivia's voice came shrill from across the café.

"Oh, Sam!" Olivia dashed across the café and practically leapt into the man's arms.

Snape and Lili exchanged curious glances.

"Liv, Liv," he attempted through the mass of her hair that had found its way in his mouth. "You're choking me."

Olivia dismounted, beaming and brushing at his disheveled clothes affectionately. "What are you doing here? I didn't think you'd come to visit so late."

He opened his mouth to say something, but Olivia interrupted.

"Let me introduce you to some of my—" Her eyes met Snape, and the word 'friends' froze on her tongue. "Er, this is my roommate Lili." 

The thin man reached out and shook her hand weakly and with a forced smile.

"And this is one of our old professors from Hogwarts," she said, indicating Snape from what she considered a safe distance. "Professor Severus Snape." It was clear that even saying his name made her uncomfortable.

Snape took the scrawny hand with some reluctance.

"This is Sam Nunberg. He's my new, er, boyfriend." She giggled slightly, and Lili felt as though she might lose her dinner. "No worries, he's a wizard as well. Works for the Ministry. Graduated from Durmstrang five years ago." 

He smiled wanly at this, trying to nod and yet politely extricate himself from their company as quickly as possible. "Liv," he said quietly.

"Well, what is it?" she asked him loudly, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him further in the café. "What brings you here?"

Snape made ready to exit again, and, this time, Lili, grabbing her book in one hand, prepared to follow.

"Dementors."

The man's voice had come weak and afraid, and both Snape and Lili froze in their spots. 

The entire café was silent and every eye riveted on the thin wizard now shaking and pushing at his sliding, coke-bottle spectacles. 

"Dementors? What do you mean 'dementors?" Olivia's face had fallen, her voice both angry and afraid. 

He swallowed. "Dementors…they're…missing."

Lili and Snape turned almost in unison, rounding on the slight man violently. 

"What do you mean they're 'missing?'" Snape barked, burrowing into the wizard with burning, black eyes.

"J-just that," he stuttered, deciding to keep his gaze on Lili rather than the more imposing Snape. "I just heard while I was up doing my late work at the Ministry. They've gone missing and no one knows what could have happened…"

Ice filled Lili's veins as she wilted back into her chair. _Missing…how can they be missing…_

Two years previous, the Ministry had finally conceded to remove the Dementors as guardians of Azkaban and replace them with highly trained dragons. It was the very reason her father, an expert on dragons, had been called back to England. Since then, the Ministry had kept the Dementors somewhere—though no one knew where—safely away from the grasp of anyone sinister enough to desire their services.

Snape and Lili's eyes met, dark and understanding. 

He gave her a nod and disappeared out the half-open door. 

Even the tiny bell felt too heavy to ring.

Voldemort had the Dementors. But _why_? Why now? And what would he do with them? 

At the worst, it meant war. A horrible, devastating war.

She felt the flood gates open, but, inside, she was too tired even to cry. 

Her eyes met the pages of the book now cradled loosely in her arms.

_It's been three years. Your scent still lingers,_

_your scent gone, yet never-ending. _

_But now you're gone, never to return,_

She slammed the book shut, wanting to forget Snape's voice, whispering the words in her ear.

But now you're gone, never to return.

She lifted her fingers to her cheek, his scent still lingering in the air.

This was the end. One way or another, this was it. 

So many feelings fought within her, that she did her best to ignore them all, staring out into the black shadows of night.

Outside, it began to rain.

*******************

A/N: I bring you this chapter from Beijing…I didn't get a chance to upload it before I left (since ff.net has been sooo crazy), but here it is now. It's quite long, and I keep hesitating to put it up because I don't know if I've gotten the feelings right: and I keep feeling that people are out-of-character…please let me know what you think.

I don't know if I'll be able to put chapter 5 up before I get back to the States, but I have a 12 hour train ride coming up next weekend, so it's possible…

Please, let me know what you think!!! :o) 


	6. Ballroom and Balcony

_Chapter Five:_ Ballroom and Balcony

The full, gray shadow of Malfoy Manor loomed before her, staring out through empty, silk-draped eyes. Over the years she had stood there many times, facing that glassy gaze; but it was still impossible to shake the panicked memories that snatched at her heart. In those dark, hidden rooms she walked a thin line between life and death—indeed, she walked it even now…

Today, however, Malfoy Manor had taken on a different look, dressed in bunches of flowers, gold banners and crème ribbons, trees strung with specks of light just beginning to twinkle against the faded sky. For a moment, Lili was able to push away her fluttering fear and admire the elegance that had been thrown over the severity of Malfoy Manor like a veil. She hated to see it lifted.

Such calculated beauty was no doubt the work of Narcissa Malfoy: Dia had never been able to tell orange from green and was likely to wear both colors together, thinking herself quite chic.

_Dia Malfoy_. She ran the name through her mind briefly, trying to make it sound true. _Mrs. Dia Malfoy. Draco and Dia Malfoy._

Well, it was done, awkward or not…

Olivia walked to her side, delicate, high-heeled shoes crunching the dust softly. "So this is Malfoy Manor." Her voice was half a sigh, half a gulp.

Lili kept her amusement to herself. The ceremony had been crawling with ex-Slytherins and plenty of those with high-breeding but questionable reputations: Olivia seemed to be having Auror palpitations.

For once, however, Lili was glad for her roommate's unquestioning Gryffindor bravery; she needed someone by her side—someone who wasn't hiding a dagger under their robes, waiting for her to let down her guard…

Inside, the halls danced with candlelight, people drifting up marble staircases drenched in all things graceful and fashionable. Lili followed, nodding curtly at those she recognized, exchanging a quick hello with Walden Macnair. Olivia stayed close.

A thick crowd of people had gathered at the entrance to the ballroom, and Lili joined it absent-mindedly. She heard Olivia let out a slight, steadying sigh, fingers fiddling lightly with the blue silk of her dress.

"You look nice," Lili said, trying to distract the other witch from her discomfort.

She merely grinned wanly.

"Better be careful; don't want to look _too_ good."

Olivia rolled her eyes, not finding this amusing. In truth, Lili was half-serious: Olivia would attract enough attention as a lion in a den of snakes—anything more grabbing could become…problematic.

"Lili!"

Her name echoed across the foyer; it was a familiar voice, though one long absent from her thoughts.

The large clump of people parted, and Dia emerged, throwing her arms about Lili suddenly. "Oh, Lili!"

She barely knew how to react, reaching up and patting Dia's back awkwardly. An embrace was not a typical Slytherin greeting by any means. 

_Especially when you run in the circles I do…_

She was grateful to finally be released. 

"Oh, I'm so glad you came." Dia beamed, black eyes twinkling up and down with excitement. The candlelight cast bouncing shadows across her bared shoulders, pale skin set flawless against the smooth lace of her dress. "I see you around here all the time, but it's been far too long since I've been able to drag you away from Lucius." She smiled even wider, and Lili marveled at how incredibly happy her old friend seemed. The shadows sat on her with a delicate—even flattering—ease, wrapping around her like a gossamer shawl. Unlike Lili, she seemed untouched by the darkness, the heaviness, of Malfoy Manor…

"Yes, it's been too long," Lili managed, snapping away from her thoughts and shooting a smile at Draco who had just sauntered up and run a loose arm about Dia's waist.

Her heart attempted a brief ache, but Lili willed such foolishness away.

"Good to see you, Lili," Draco proffered in the long, elegant drawl he reserved for such formal occasions. "And your guest as well."

Olivia's body stiffened slightly to be called out, but the young witch managed a smile that Lili admired for its attempted sincerity.

"This is my roommate Olivia Birch." She stepped aside, leaving Olivia fully vulnerable under Dia and Draco's appraising eyes. "Olivia, Dia and Draco Malfoy." Even now, the words felt odd. 

Draco bowed deeply. Dia nodded.

Olivia, Lili thought, was managing surprisingly well. If she didn't feel at ease—which she almost certainly didn't—she was doing a good impression of it. Lili was sometimes given to wonder if her roommate had more Slytherin in her than was apparent at first blush.

"I was just telling Lili how glad we are to have her." Dia informed Draco gently, before turning her attentions back to her guests. "I've really wished to have you around—you wouldn't believe how often I've thought of inviting you."

Lili found herself wondering about the sincerity of such laments. She had visited Malfoy Manor many times and always found Dia and the elder Mrs. Malfoy otherwise engaged. The opportunity for rekindling old friendship had always been present, but Lili guessed that Dia had taken on different goals, and that such statements were merely the result of the gleamingly transparent sociability her old friend had learned from Narcissa Malfoy.

Or perhaps, Lili had grown too jaded to believe anything in Malfoy Manor could be as sincere as it seemed.

Or, more likely, both.

She forced the same smile normally reserved for the elder Mrs. Malfoy. "Well, hopefully we can remedy that." Words as sincere as Dia's: resurrecting old Slytherin friendships sounded too much like prodding still open wounds. Besides, Dia wasn't the same: two years at Malfoy Manor had, as Lili feared, irreparably changed her. 

_Everyone's changed. Grown up._

"And when will I be attending the wedding of Miss Elizabeth Lee?" Dia asked with a wry grin; barely a half-hearted memory of the one they had shared so many late nights in the dark rooms of Slytherin.

Lili rolled her eyes; it was the sort of question she would have given all the Galleons in Gringotts not to answer—or, for that matter, to even consider. "Oh, never I suspect," she sighed, shrugging. "Who would want to marry me?"

"Professor Snape," Draco said with a pressed smile.

Blood pounded out from her chest, burning under her skin as she colored. Had she heard—had he said—

Yes, yes, she was certain; she'd heard him say Snape. But _why_? Why on earth would he suggest—had he somehow heard of their meeting at the Café—

She opened her mouth in some attempt to respond, but it was not her voice that crawled through the thick air, low and silk.

"Mister Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy."

She turned her head slowly, trying to regain some of her composure. Snape stood behind her, stiff in his black, formal robes. His dark eyes flickered over her, cold and close. "Miss Lee. Miss Birch."

She gave him a nod and turned away once more, willing her skin to cool and her heart to slow.

Of course. A greeting, not a suggestion. _Pull yourself together, Lili_. 

She couldn't afford to lose her composure. One small slip like that could very well get them both killed.

She bit down on her tongue, hard enough to distract herself from the racing of her heart.

"We were just discussing when Lili might be hearing wedding bells," Dia told Snape. She gave him a smile that made it abundantly clear she no longer feared their one-time Potions Master as she once had. She now afforded him the same sociable, condescending look as everyone else.

The corner of Snape's lip turned, whether in disgust or discomfiture she couldn't tell. "Well then I'll leave you to such discussion, ladies." He gave them a slight nod. "Mister Malfoy."

"Actually, Professor, I'll go with you," Draco interjected, disentangling himself from Dia quickly. "I have a feeling this may quickly become girl talk." He winked at Lili and took off beside Snape, disappearing into the bustling crowd of the ballroom. 

Lili wished she could follow, wanting desperately to know what they might say. She was sure Snape would take advantage of any information Draco might let slip.

But she stayed, rooted in place, unwilling to leave Olivia and wary of seeming  too eager to get away from Dia.

"Well then," Olivia said, breaking the silence and bringing Lili spiraling back to reality, "you can throw the bouquet to me, if it's all the same to Lili. I think I might finally have a prospect worth marrying."

She was smiling so hard, Dia found the enthusiasm contagious. "Oh, really? Well, that's exciting. Someone I might know?"

"I'm not sure. His name's Sam Nunberg. He works at the Ministry in the Department of Ethics in Magical Application."

Lili had been wondering about this mysterious new beaux for the last several days; who he was, what part of the Ministry he worked for, and, most importantly, why she hadn't heard a word about him earlier.

This revelation, however, seemed to explain it. On numerous occasions Lili had expressed not only her disgust with but her utter loathing of DEMA. For all their ethics and crusades, it was DEMA who had let Barty Crouch authorize the use of Unforgivables on apprehended Death Eaters during Voldemort's first reign. And it was now DEMA who had authorized the killing of uncooperative Death Eaters, even before trial. But let one Slytherin fifth-year bring a copy of _Dark Draughts and Drugges_ to school and DEMA became so active everyone found occasion to  compliment their diligence…

Olivia was normally more than hesitant to mention romantic matters to Lili—the fact that her heart-throb worked for a department Lili found particularly odious was likely reason enough to keep things under wraps as long as possible.

The sinking in Dia's smile indicated her own feelings about DEMA. "Oh, no, I'm afraid I don't know anyone in _that_ department. But I'll do my best with the bouquet."

Both witches stared at one another, and Lili could tell that Olivia was suddenly feeling quite out of place. The name DEMA elicited a different response among Slytherins than she was likely accustomed to.

"Ahh, Lili."

Olivia had braced her body, hands instantly flying to the silk of her dress once more. 

Lili felt her own heart shudder, but, more accustomed to the smooth, icy voice, turned to meet those gray eyes with a half-smile. "Lucius." 

The elder Malfoy gave a deep bow, merely glancing at Olivia before laying a long hand on Lili's shoulder. "I've been looking for you. May I have a word?"

She wanted desperately to ask him what the "word" would be about, but merely tried her best to seem unaffected by the suggestion. "Of course."

"Don't worry, Lili," Dia offered, with a resurrected smile. "I'll show your friend in." The two witches locked arms and entered the ballroom together. 

And she was left with him. She steeled herself, preparing. This was, after all, the moment when she might find out if she would live or die…

Had she been any other of Lucius' female acquaintances, he might have offered her his arm and escorted her into the ballroom. Lili took it as a sign of greater esteem that he merely gestured for her to lead the way; she was his equal—well as much as anyone could be—and of no concern where matters of sex came into play. This suited her very comfortably as Lucius Malfoy's history with women was somewhat less than respectable.

"Who was that you brought along?" he asked as they entered the ballroom, walking lazily along the walls and nearer, Lili noticed gratefully, to the large table of champagne glasses.

"That's my roommate, Olivia Birch. I've told you about her." Lili grabbed at one of the bubbling champagne flutes, pushing it hard against her lips.

 "Ahh, yes, the would-be Auror. An entertaining choice of companions."

She wasn't sure how to interpret this remark. Another long draw of champagne tickled down her throat; a poor attempt to drown her anxiety.

"Beautiful though," he said, voice sinking to a throaty growl. "Really lovely."

The light liquid grew heavy on her tongue. She did not seriously think Lucius would put Olivia in a compromising position—at least not with so many people present. But the very idea of those glassy eyes fixing her friend with such obvious lust made the mixture of liquor and wedding cake roil in her stomach. Lili had seen on several horrible occasions the depths of Lucius Malfoy's depravity; it was something he fully unleashed only under the mask and the hood, but such horrors were not easily forgotten.

"I knew you'd like her," Lili said, finishing the champagne and trying to affect both indifference and disapproval in her sigh. It was common knowledge among Lucius' better acquaintances that the elder Malfoy possessed a special appetite for blondes: an extension, Lili decided, of his all-encompassing narcissism. "Too bad she's a Gryffindor and a Muggle-lover, eh?"

Malfoy nodded, taking a glass of champagne and pushing it past his lips for a few moments in silence. Lili dreaded even to guess what thoughts were running through his mind. She had, on some of her more hopeless and restless nights, found a great deal of terror considering what the wizarding world would become if Voldemort won and the Malfoy's were given free exercise of their desires. Through a second glass of champagne, she found herself hoping that, if such a day ever came, Olivia would already be dead and out of Lucius Malfoy's reach. She hoped the same, in fact, for herself.

_Be careful what you wish for, Lili…_

Malfoy's eyes returned to her, and she knew she must meet them. She'd need another glass for this…

He was swirling the yellow liquid absent-mindedly. "How's your work been?"

"Not too good I'm afraid," she sighed, allowing herself to slip down in her Slytherin skin, lips tilting up in a nasty half-sneer. "It seems that, lamentably, we've made little progress in our work. The Aurors on the front lines are still suffering…"

This seemed to amuse Lucius greatly, and his smile twisted even more behind the refracting champagne glass.

"But there is always a silver lining. It seems Ronald Weasley is more of a man than we might have imagined." She sighed. "He knocked-up that Mudblood wife of his, and she's requested a transfer out of my office." 

Lucius snorted, and Lili felt herself blending in with the crowd. She belonged here, yes. She was still a Slytherin, could still pretend to be anything she liked—still speak sickening words without so much as a second thought.

No, not quite. But the second thoughts, the guilt, came later. She could push it away.

"Yes, I heard about the Weasleys', er, good fortune. Sounds like more of a blessing for _you_." Lucius put aside his glass and turned, walking towards the corner of the ballroom. She followed without question. "Just another poor, red-headed tramp for the rest of us."

It was Lili's turn to chuckle, and she knew it well. 

"Have you heard the news about Junia Bell?"

He asked the question in an off-handed manner, as anyone might have asked anyone else about a recent newspaper headline. But they were now safely in an empty corner of the room, and Lili knew the turn the conversation would be taking…

"Yes—yes," she said, looking at him, trying to pierce the suave, sociable mask he still wore. "I heard _everything_…from Draco."

He nodded, understanding, and leaned against the wall with the slow, intimidating grace only a Malfoy could possess. 

Or perhaps one other, she corrected herself, catching a brief glance of Snape across the ballroom.

She swallowed, trying to concentrate on the subject at hand. "I must say, I'm a little curious as to why I heard the news from Draco. I would have thought…other sources might have informed me."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow but smiled at the same time, hand waving dismissively. "Don't be worried, Lili. No one but myself was told. I was to be sure everyone else who was deemed worthy heard such things." He leaned in a little, voice low. "Why do you think my son was so adamant that you be here tonight?"

Lili watched his eyes, his lips, his body fiercely, struggling to decide if this was the truth or merely a way of appeasing her. "So there's to be a meeting this evening?"

Malfoy shook his head, leaning back again. "No. Still too soon. One week from tonight, here on the Manor. There, everything will be revealed."

Fear shivered down Lili's spine. Malfoy was holding her in his cold eyes, every inch of her gripped with the chill. There was something watching her, something that knew—

"Do—do—" Her voice was barely audible over the bustling in the ballroom. "Do you know who it is?" But she didn't need to ask. There was a smugness in his steel gaze that she recognized: it was a more mature and disguised version of what she could spy so easily in Draco. But he was _letting _her see this, the look he normally hid so well. He wanted her to know…to know that he knew…

He smirked. "Oh no, of course not. Only the Dark Lord knows. If I knew, don't you think you would as well? Our Master considers you one of his most loyal servants." 

She swallowed, not to be deterred. "Well, of recent I've been wondering on that account. I mean, I heard nothing of the Dementors either. And I'm most eager to hear about that. It seems, perhaps, at last, our Master is ready to take back what was once his…to reclaim his power…" She kept her eyes fixed strong and purposeful across the room. She would not let her face betray her as her voice was managing an excellent mix of hunger and excitement. "In such a case, I want to be the first in battle. I have been waiting these last two years…"

Lucius chuckled, his cold, skeletal hand finding its way to her shoulder once  more. "Patience is all I can council. With the situation as it is, our Master must be very cautious. He cannot tell anyone right now. But believe me, the time is coming. Next Sunday, you'll have no more worries…"

Her skin crawled, his long fingers seeming to burn like a brand. She was afraid for a moment that she had jumped at his touch, and that he could feel her sweating, heart pounding and shaking her like the guttering candles that surrounded them in pale light.

"Lili?"

She had never been so grateful to see Draco in her life. Lucius' hand moved from her shoulder, and she was suddenly much lighter, desperate to escape. 

"Would you like to dance?" He was running his fingers through his long white hair, eyes sliding between her and his father as he smiled weakly. 

Under normal circumstances, she would have groaned. She didn't need to be twirled around the dance floor, reminded of earlier times when he had held her that way…

But this time, she took the hand he offered her with gratitude. 

Squeezing through several whirling couples, it was only now she realized how hot and crowded the ballroom had become. She was sweating, stomach fluttering weak and unsettled, the heat of the air filling her mouth with the thickness of water.

She couldn't push his gray stare from her mind.

He knew—of that there could be no doubt. But what it was, she couldn't say.

Had he seen her sweating? Had she merely imagined that cruel glint in his eyes as he spoke? 

___Next Sunday, you'll have no more worries…_

Draco laid a hand on her waist, and they began to spin along with the dizzying rush that whirred about her head.

No, perhaps she had imagined it. She couldn't let herself get too nervous—not yet. She had a week: whether or not it was the last week of her life, it was still time.

And perhaps things weren't so bad as they seemed. Lucius was famous for that cruel glint…

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, pulling her through a tight turn.

"Oh—oh yes," she stammered, trying to concentrate on Draco and not the lights and flashes blurring around them. "I'm just a little hot."

Draco nodded, no doubt making some comment on the heat. Lili couldn't hear him over a sudden burst of music and the constant cacophony of voices. Even the whispers seemed to echo…

"What did you think of the ceremony?" he tried again, somewhat louder, leaning in closely. 

For a quick moment her heart jolted feeling his body touch hers, his lips mere inches from her ears. She grazed his eyes, cool like his father's; and yet…different. Especially different at the moment.

 "It was really beautiful. You both looked stunning." Sweat beaded on her nose. Draco's voice felt hot in her ear, and everything seemed to be trembling around her, refusing to steady. "I'm glad to see you both so happy."

Her feet were moving independently of her mind which had now lost all balance. The heat, the fear, and the thousand faces whirling past were drumming inside her head; all demanding her attention. She began to wonder if she could make it through this song without slumping against Draco completely. The sturdiness of his body was the only thing holding her up amidst the churning crowd.

No, she was overreacting. It wasn't her. It couldn't be her.

"Lili?" His eyes were so close to hers she spied flecks of blue among the gray.

"Yes?"

His gaze suddenly darkened, causing Lili's spinning, pounding heart to lurch. He was hesitating.

"Is something wrong?" she pressed, feeling her palms sweat against his.

She was comforted to feel that his were equally slick.

 "Is—is there anything—between you and—" The dry sound of his swallow cracked against her ears.  He paused.

Her body reeled, bloomed and keened with sweat, but her mind fixed heavily on every dripping syllable.

"Between you and Snape?"

She froze. All the weight of the spinning room crashed down upon her like a violent wave.

Draco almost tripped over himself. 

"What?" She knew her face was betraying her shock, but somehow she felt powerless to hide it. The room seemed to be breaking apart at the seams, her heart thudding, hot and horrified, and this was the last question in the world she had expected. 

Draco grabbed her again, twirling her and obviously trying not to draw any more attention. "Is there anything between the two of you? I just—want to know." He was pressed close to her, and she was almost certain he could feel the hammering of her heart next to his.

He knew something. 

Ye Gods, did anyone here not know _something_ that could get her killed? What could she say? What could she do…

"No, there's nothing," she spat. "Merlin's beard, Draco, why would you ask such a thing? Snape?" The disgust that laced her voice was genuine, though not for the reasons she hoped Draco would assume.

Did he know or was he just guessing?

Her wand was in the pocket of her robes. It wouldn't be hard to reach. If she needed.

She repeated this to herself several times.

"I don't know. Just—I mean at Hogwarts you—" He turned her again, face twisted with discomfort. "Just tell me. I need to know."

So he _didn't _know—he was guessing. She couldn't afford to hesitate even a second. "No. There's nothing. At Hogwarts I was working for honors in Potions. I haven't even spoken to Snape since then, at least outside of—business." She screwed up her nose as if smelling something foul. "You shouldn't believe everything Pansy Parkinson tosses around. I mean, for Circe's sake—it's Snape. Can you imagine?" 

The room continued its gyrations, seeming to blink with every guttering candle. 

Draco's sigh caressed her cheek. "Good. I'm glad."

Her blood was pounding furiously, sloshing as if dragged by every emotional tide. A thousand sounds hailed down on her ears, faces watching her blank and indistinct. 

And he was so close…

With every circle, she turned back to the same question. What did this _mean?_

Draco had guessed that there was some relationship between herself and Snape. He assumed it to be romantic in nature. He didn't want that relationship  either because he was still pining after her and didn't want to see her with their old, greasy Potions Master, or…

The strings gave one final scream, and she felt Draco's body pull away, fingers disentangling from hers gingerly.

Or they knew about Snape. 

They knew about Snape, and Draco was trying to tell her—trying to protect her.

Draco bowed deeply, but she had already turned away, staggering off the dance floor, eyes darting, raking every face, searching for his.

She tried to add the two Malfoys together. Did Lucius suspect a relationship between herself and Snape? Could Draco notice anything his father didn't hand him on a platter?

_No. Lucius couldn't know._ He wouldn't have resisted further innuendo if he'd suspected that she and Snape…

And even if the elder Malfoy did suspect that she and the Potions Master were romantically engaged, this in itself was no particular crime. They would have no reason to believe that they were both spies, both traitors simply because they were lovers…

An odd thought to be sure: but she had no doubt that such was the way the mind of a Malfoy interpreted these things.

No sooner had she thought this, than she almost ran into the elder Malfoy as he glided onto the dance floor, a lithe, tall woman on his arm.

Lili looked up to see Olivia, face torn between courtesy and fear.

_Perhaps some of that Auror-training will pay off before the end…_

Seeing this, she could take no more of the heat and the fray, and pushed her way out of the ballroom, mind aching for the dull release of solitude.

****************

The ballroom's balcony was locked, but a flick of her wand opened the French doors with an easy creak. She closed them behind her, locking them and adding a temporary password. She needed some time alone. To think.

The Manor's main balcony was a grand affair, and Lili had only stood on it once before—two years previous with Draco. They had been flying and decided to take a break. There they had sat on the cold marble, staring out at the Manor grounds which had then been covered in crisp frost. They had talked for hours about the newest model Nimbus. 

The distance from that time pressed heavily on her. Now she stood here alone, in an oppressive heat, fear retching and churning through her, without a single such innocent topic as broomsticks on her mind.

Yes, a lot could change in two years.

A lot, it seemed, could change in one week.

She sat, hoping to feel the cold marble again; hoping to keep remembering.

The stone was luke-warm but felt pleasant against the fire of her skin. Music wafted lightly from the ballroom, and, though the stars were all masked by thick clouds, lights twinkled from the trees, lighting the grounds like fireflies.

Had it been anywhere else, at any other time, it would have been breathtakingly beautiful.

Her mind, however, recovering from its vertigo, insisted on her full attention in the present, without regard for scenery.

She had to think, decide what could be done.

She hadn't a clear idea, however, what to believe. The elder Malfoy had given her no truly clear indication, but her gut told her he knew—he knew she was a spy.

But Draco had merely seemed concerned that she keep her distance from Snape. This suggested that it was Snape they knew about.

So it was either she or Snape.

She swallowed, her heart fluttering in realization.

_Does it matter? Does it matter which of us is doomed?_

Her mind drudged up each scenario, unbidden.

The room would be dark, firelit. She would watch the scene as she always did, through the thin gauze of a mask; like watching animals from the other side of the cage—the illusion of being removed from reality. 

He would slide around the circle, hissing out words, reaching their eyes even through so many veils.

And he would say a name.

_Lee_.

_Snape._

And Lili would be dragged into the circle, mask and hood torn away, wand broken, her body ruthlessly beaten.

Or she would watch as Snape was pulled forward—maybe even be forced to help.

The rest would be the same, no matter who was pulled out.

Screams.

Blood.

The sounds of snapping bones and guttural pleas.

The smell of sweat and blood. Urine and alcohol.

And, if the victim was lucky, a horrible flash of green light before being defiled and torn to pieces like so much dead meat.

She choked back a sob, her lungs filling with the thick, unrelieving night air.

"It's good to know I'm not the only one enjoying this party so much."

Hers was not, apparently, the only mind seeking quiet.

She jumped at his voice, but wouldn't turn to meet him, painfully aware of the tears now frozen on her cheeks.

"You frightened me." 

He shifted behind her, his formal robes rustling on the marble sternly. "You shouldn't be so careless. You're not the only who knows _Alohomora_."

He was right, but that didn't keep the resentment from wringing her muscles. Did all her caution and thorough pretenses mean anything anymore? What more could one unguarded moment of crying do?

She pulled her knees up to her chest, still refusing to look at him, even as he sat beside her. She was vaguely aware of his scent, but even the stiff spices of Hogwarts seemed no match for the pressing, black air.

"I spoke with Draco."

Snape said it before she could.

"It's me."

She swallowed, feeling the tears drying across her cheeks. From somewhere in the distance, the music picked up again, sliding past her unheard.

"Are you sure?" Her body seemed to be buzzing with numbness: an unwillingness to be hearing these things, to be faced with this.

"As sure as one can be about the whims of a killer."

"Draco asked me if there was anything between us," she said, as flat and unemotional as she could manage. 

She looked up just in time to catch his smirk. "Yes, he tried to ask me about it too. Only further confirmation." He seemed to unwind slightly. "He still cares for you a great deal; doesn't want you getting mixed up with a marked man."

"Lucius was behaving strangely. I almost thought he knew about me."

Snape continued staring out, twinkling lights reflecting off his eyes manically. "He always gets that glint in his eyes when he knows something the rest of us mortals don't. He smells blood."

Watching Snape, she began to feel a panic fluttering in her heart. "What—what are you going to do?"

"I don't know." 

He said this with a voice Lili had never heard from him before. It was resigned and yet utterly helpless. It was the voice of a man who had lost hope. 

Shudders pricked down her back though heat was sticking to her skin like honey.

The grounds which had, just a few moments ago, seemed so silent, now erupted with sound. Crickets moaned, toads wailed, and from the ballroom, music still managed to cut through the night air like a warm knife through butter. Snape's breathing echoed, tremulous and rhythmically around every note.

She allowed herself to watch him only through furtive glances, knowing he'd grow stern and uncomfortable otherwise. 

It struck her how odd this was, sitting with him here, like this—just where she'd sat with Draco two years earlier. He, too, was sweating, several strands of his long black hair plastered to his thin neck, the rest hanging limp about his shoulders. He looked out, oblivious to the world, and Lili wondered what he was thinking. It was a terrifying prospect, one's own death sentence, but he was handling it just as she'd expected. The stoicism he wore in the face of everything. 

She envied him that at least. Her eyes were burning.

One week.

One week.

And what could be done?

"Miss Lee?"

The low silk of his voice startled her. She met his eyes curiously.

"Would you like to dance?"

For a moment she said nothing, trying to decide if she'd imagined this. "W-what?"

"I confess I'm probably not the most desirable of partners," he said, standing and brushing at his robes circumspectly, "but I find myself overcome with the desire to be a normal person in a normal situation at this moment. Would you like to dance?" He offered her a long, corded hand.

She took it, feeling herself pulled up from the marble with a strength she wouldn't have guessed Snape to possess. 

It was the same feeling she'd been overcome with in the café just a few days earlier; the desire to forget everything and to have one moment of normalcy. 

He laid a gentle hand on her waist, winding his fingers through hers languidely.

A warmth spread through her which she had never experienced. It made her blush, and she desperately hoped the night would keep it unseen.

They began to move, and, despite anything she might have guessed, Snape was an excellent dance partner, moving her in smooth, wide circles with the same slow elegance he possessed in skulking about the dungeons. She could barely make out the shape of his face in the dark, his eyes glittering between her and the distance. She was overly aware of his hand on her waist, long fingers wrapping the bone of her hip loosely. The their palms were pressed tight, hot and slick, and, as his robes brushed against hers, Lili wished for a flashing moment to be closer. 

There was no Malfoy Manor, no wedding, no death sentence—no Snape. There was simply the need to keep dancing and to forget. 

The music carried them together for what seemed quite a long time.

As the last string faded and gave way to the bellowing crickets, she felt Snape's hands fall from her, his warmth and his scent trailing away and leaving her stuck in the same stagnant night air once more. 

"We really should get back in," he said through a deep breath, stepping back and straightening his robes. "It will look suspicious if both of us are gone too long at the same time."

It took a moment for her to return, for her mind and body to sink back into reality. She could not adjust as quickly as he. 

"Er—yes," she attempted, pushing at her hair, and stepping back towards the French doors hastily. "I need to go rescue Olivia before Lucius Malfoy finds a way to get her on her own somewhere."

Snape shook his head grimly. "Yes, I suppose he'd like her, wouldn't he."

She tapped the French doors lightly, muttering the password. They opened with the same creak. 

She was torn between the urge to leave and the desire to close them again and keep them closed forever. 

But the music would stop. 

And they would come looking.

She met his eyes as she pulled the doors open, candlelight trailing over her gold. "I'll talk to Lang tonight after Olivia goes to sleep." She knew it was the last thing he'd want to do.

"I'll speak with Dumbledore." His voice was quiet, holding back something which she couldn't place. 

She turned to leave.

"Miss Lee."

Her heart was aching, teetering between cool reality and the forgetful dream she had just experienced. "Yes?"

"Thank you. That was a lovely dance."

Every part of her trembled in a way she couldn't understand, her knees locking, her skin prickling as if in a cool breeze. 

_No, Lili. Keep walking. Go find Olivia, go home, and remember what life is_ really_ like._

She exited, leaving Snape alone, tall and frowning amidst the stony shadows.

*********************************

A/N: Alright! This chapter is the product of a long train ride and a sick day. :o) It's another long one…I hope you like. 

Chapter Six may or may not be out before I get back to America, just depending on how long I'm sick, or how much it rains the next few days (the weather in Beijing has been miserable!) Six will be a shorter chapter, so it's entirely possible.

Please let me know what you think!!! 

  


	7. Too Many Surprises

Chapter Six: Too Many Surprises

The darkness of the room shifted menacingly, every syllable of the name hissing through her ears, punctuated by the violent crackle of fire.

_Severus._

_Snape._

The darkness erupted, wrenching and clawing, voices lifted so high and enraged they stamped out the shouts of the man now struggling under every blow.

She was only vaguely aware of her own voice joined with theirs, blazing with hate, as hot as the blood pounding in her ears.

_Kill the traitor. _

_Death is too good._

Long live Lord Voldemort.

She detached herself from it just as she refused to acknowledge the hand now helping to tear back his hood.

She was two people. Tonight, the shadow took over.

Minutes passed. Her hands rent, tore; her eyes watched, blurred behind a mask--a bubbling wall of tears.

_Long live Lord Voldemort._

He lay, the barest semblance of a man now, flopping and spluttering on the floor, trying not to escape but to die. He was missing three fingers on his left hand, his right broken and bent back on itself. His pale cheeks bloomed with bruises, and, as he coughed a plea for mercy, blood gurgled thick from his throat.

He looked up at her, one eye already wrenched from its socket, thin, red rivulets trickling down his cheeks.

She bit her tongue hard, the thick taste of copper exploding in her mouth. 

___No mercy for traitors_.

She reached out and hit him, hand across the cheek.

Her voice again—vile, distant.

And her foot connected with his stomach. 

At least, she saw that it was her foot. She felt nothing. Nothing.

He kept pushing up from the floor, his macabre, Cyclops gaze meeting hers desperately. 

She reached out to strike him again, but this time he grabbed her hand in his. Long fingers wrapped around hers, and she remembered, distant, that same hand resting on her waist as they danced. Gripping a phial loosely. Cradling a ragged black quill. 

"Lili." A raw, desperate whisper.

She jerked away in fear, hand slick with black blood.

"Lili."

His voice had become a woman's, his bloodied face now whole and soft-skinned.

"Lili?"

Olivia was leaning over her, looking scared. "Lili, are you okay?"

Her mind jerked up, spluttering, reeling almost as violently as her stomach.

Until she felt the sheets pulled taut over her tense, sweating legs.

_A nightmare. Only a nightmare._

At least, for the time being.

"You were shouting," Olivia said, shifting and watching Lili warily. "Something about 'no mercy for traitors'…"

"Oh, I'm fine," she said, wincing. Her tongue buzzed with pain; apparently that coppery-blood had not been completely unreal. She swirled it in her mouth a moment before swallowing bitterly. "I guess I had too much champagne last night."

Olivia nodded, and Lili couldn't be sure whether she believed this or not. "Well, I thought you might want to wake up. It's six in the afternoon, afterall."

Lili gave some small sound of assent, willing her legs to swing out of the bed—willing them to bear her weight. 

She had gone to Lang the night before, and he had kept her four hours in that underground tomb, seeming not to miss the sleep. They had, of course, argued, but Lili was resolute. She knew what had to be done.

Snape's face flashed through her mind, mangled as it had been in her dream.

It had to be done. _Soon._

"I brought the mail in," Olivia said, turning to watch Lili stumble her way out of bed and into the hall. "There's a birthday card for you." 

Lili took the mess of papers Olivia offered her with a shaking yawn. Looking at mail seemed almost too normal an activity—she barely knew how to handle it, her head spinning with thoughts so heavy and crucial…

The birthday card was from her old Headmaster, Professor Zhi. 

She had hoped, briefly, to see her father's name scrawled across the inside; but that was foolish masochism. She hadn't spoken to or seen her father in almost three years.

"Six days now," Olivia said, shaking an envelope in her direction. "Someone's birthday is coming, and I haven't forgotten."

Lili's head throbbed. Had it been anyone but Olivia, they would have been rewarded with a snarl. The last thing she needed right now was to worry about what disaster Olivia might have planned for her birthday. She didn't say anything, merely flipping through the remainder of her mail absent-mindedly.

_Gringotts Bank would like to inform you of a change in our vault accessing proc— _

_Looking for the perfect wizard to light up your nights—_

_Come have a drink at The Golden Goblet—_

_The Snake and Skull Cauldron Emporium—_

She stopped. 

It looked like an advert, but she knew better. Trying to keep her face nonchalant, she sauntered into the kitchen and grabbed several bottles, phials and a large, leafy plant, and marched back into her room.

She made sure to close and lock the door.

If she could only remember how this was supposed to work…

_Three drops of frog's blood…no wait…two._

She dug beneath her bed, and, after pawing through several stacks of books, pulled out the one she needed: _Complex Concoctions _by David R. Fitzwellington. It had once been black and new, but, after such a long term under her bed, it had faded to a dusty gray.

She blew a sheath of dust from the pages and began scanning.

She kept a small cauldron at the end of her bed, just in case. She began filling it, losing herself in the process.

_Three drops frog's blood in boiling water._

Stir clockwise five revolutions.

Moondust (one teaspoon) and an infusion of mugwort, added simultaneously.

Wait until silver.

Trace out the rune 'Eth' on the surface with phoenix feather.

When rune is complete, surface should turn gold. Add five leaves of kingsfoil, finely chopped.

The entire potion took almost an hour to finish, not helped by the fact that she was forced to start over again when she mixed up the rune 'Eth' with another less appropriate collection of strokes.

When it was finally done, she reached for the cauldron advert and, holding it tightly in her dragonhide gloves, dipped it in the bubbling liquid with patient expectation.

The liquid fizzled, sparked, and, for a moment, Lili was afraid she had done something wrong as the paper had now, she guessed, been reduced to ashes. But, to her amazement, when the sparks finally subsided, she pulled out the  paper once more, wholly intact. 

The advertisement's black ink was floating several inches above the page and now began to dance, small clumps whizzing around each other and rearranging themselves into black letters written in an elegant, long hand.

Just as she'd suspected; a letter from Snape.

She was lucky she'd remembered that damn potion. It was just like him, still testing her two years after graduation.

She sank onto the side of the bed and began reading, uncertain whether to feel excited or nervous to hear from him so soon.

_Miss Lee,_

She paused. Still Miss Lee. She wasn't sure why that bothered her, but it did. 

_Miss Lee,_

_I thought it best to contact you in regards to the situation I seem to have found myself in. I spoke with Dumbledore last night; he can offer me no other solutions than to run. As you might guess, I find myself as willing to take this path as I was so many years ago. In truth the final result of that course would be the same as simply waiting until Sunday to meet death…_

She knew he would not run; partly for the reasons he had given her two years previous when she had considered running, and partly because he was simply too proud. 

She couldn't blame him. Twenty years of pretending—it would be too hard to tuck tail and run.

Her eyes continued sliding down the page, weighed by the heavy black lines of his writing. 

_I also spoke briefly with Lang this morning through the fire. He seemed to think I needed to be made aware of some plans you had expressed to him. For once I am glad of his meddling._

Her heart sank. _Damn Lang._ Damn him and his constant arrogant intrusion…

_Frankly, I'm appalled that you would have even considered such a course of action. I thought my instruction and two years of experience would have made you wiser than some fifth-year Gryffindor ready to go bumbling off, brave but stupid. Now of all times, we must be restrained, no matter what we might feel compelled to do…_

Her grip on the letter tightened; he still scolded her as if she was one of his Hogwarts pupils. Her mind briefly dredged up memories of the vitriolic lectures following failed extra-hours potions.

She frowned.

Granted, her plan had not been the most desirable, but, under the circumstances she didn't see what chance he had if they weren't willing to take a risk—to play the same game of cat and mouse as the Dark Lord…

She would go to him—to Voldemort; the meeting could be easily arranged through Malfoy. She would there beg him for the traitor's name, demanding the chance to bring this rogue in for justice. The Dark Lord knew her—or thought he knew her—to be an overtly ambitious young witch; it was an image she had worked hard to concoct. 

And if he gave her the name, they would know for sure. If he denied her, at best she'd lost nothing.

At worst—

Well, it was a risk. She admitted that. But she couldn't stomach just sitting, waiting, doing nothing.

She remembered the wet heat of Snape's nightmarish hand as it clasped hers desperately.

No, she couldn't just sit and wait. She wouldn't let it happen.

_I know there is enough Slytherin in you to understand the stakes I face. Though inaction is difficult, all I can ask is, if you have any respect for me, do nothing. I have a plan even now; I do not know if it will be successful, but there's a chance we may yet both escape without allowing Voldemort the satisfaction of my blood._

A flutter in her chest.

_If you trust me, don't go to Voldemort. Don't go to Malfoy. In time you'll understand my reasoning._

He had a plan? What could it be? And, more importantly, why hadn't _she_ thought of it first? Her eyes skipped on, desperate to find some clue of his plans.

_One precaution I must insist upon is an immediate stop in our communication. Do not send me any letters—by Artibius or any other means—no matter how well disguised or how anonymous. I have no doubt that I am being carefully watched and cannot afford to be foolish, sending letters back and forth when there's no need._

Her mouth was dry, her still throbbing tongue swollen against the hard wall of her clenched teeth. 

So she should do nothing. Sit. Wait. Speak to no one.

The letter shook in her hands.

But he had a plan. That was something. She simply had to trust his cunning and his word…

There were several scratched lines after the next paragraph, and Lili squinted, trying to make out the ink-blotted letters. She could make out only one: "grateful."

Apparently, he had decided against whatever thought he'd been attempting, and replaced it with a simple

_Sincerely,_

Professor Severus Snape

She read the letter one more time, her dry lips mouthing each of the words as if to help her make sense of it. 

Do not go to Voldemort. Trust me. --Was that really all he had to say?

The paper slipped from her fingers to the floor. 

A short letter and to the point. 

She would wait. 

As simple as that.

Six days. That was all. 

She found herself laying in bed again, crumpled sheets in mountains around her feet.

Well perhaps it was good that he'd stopped her. Who knew what consequences her plan might have had? It had been a dangerous idea—a desperate one. And experience had taught her that desperate plans were for foolhardy Gryffindors. Time, shrewdness, and the ability to endure the pricks of waiting often yielded much richer rewards. Yes, Snape was right; if anyone could handle it, he could.

_So why is your heart still trembling as if shaken by thunder?_

She swallowed deeply. 

Part of it was fear; that much she knew. Snape himself admitted that his plan might not work. And for six days she would have to sit, wondering, horrible dreams waiting just inside her eyelids. 

And if it did go wrong…

She couldn't escape the gruesome images of the possible consequences. 

But, in six days, those images might be more real than she wanted ever to imagine.

And what if she was forced to strike a blow? Could she raise her hand, strike him as she had in the dream? Or would she give herself away, resigned to the same horrible fate?

Her teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot on her swollen tongue, and she hissed woefully.

And that was the rest of her fluttering heart. Would she want to stay if he died?  Could she handle this alone?

_Of course you can. You've been handling it alone for two years. You knew this could happen. Hell, you knew it would probably happen. Why are you torturing yourself over it?_

Her hand rose almost unconsciously to her cheek.

She knew, or at least, had some idea.

Blinking the frustrated tears from her eyes, she reached over to her night table, ripped open the drawer, and pulled out a vial filled with blue liquid. 

Dreamless sleep.  

It would make her groggy at work the next morning, but at least she could push it away for one night more.

As she drifted off to sleep, the letter fizzled on the floor, Snape's elegant hand melting away into the long, severe visage of a snake and skull.

********************************

Despite her fears to the contrary, the week managed to hobble by without an abnormal amount of anguish. Discovering the distracting potential of work, Lili made the Ministry Dungeons her temporary home, taking several hours of sleep a night on her lab table, and spending the remainder of her days scribbling out new formula ideas, trying them again and again. Early in the week, there had been a scandal at Hogwarts concerning two Slytherin students who had been caught trying to expel the Dark Mark over the school. DEMA had called them in and apparently discovered the same mark burned under their skin. Panicking, Lang and the Department of Mysteries then called her in, and she'd spent the better part of two days locked in the lowest levels of the Ministry talking to Lang and the DEMA board about these two boys and any connection they might have had to the Dark Lord. As it turned out, the boys had given themselves the Mark—a poor, malformed version of the real thing—as a dare. Embarrassed, the Ministry had turned them over to a correctional facility for counseling, and had sent Lili back to her work without a word. Though she was glad of the distraction, going before the DEMA committee would not have been her first choice of diversions. Of all the people at the Ministry, the DEMA board was the group most outspoken against double agents. She remembered sitting before the board two years earlier, hearing her charges, feeling utterly alone and helpless. This time, she had girded her heart with iron, strengthened by two years of scrutinizing, judging eyes. She had searched the nine members of the board for Olivia's new heart throb, hoping for some friendly—or at least familiar—face. But she didn't find one. Sam worked out in the field; at least that's what Lang said. 

Between work and the examination, she seemed to find herself at the week's end without half the grief she'd expected. Knowing not to stop working, she stayed in her lab Friday night and most of Saturday, and only at six decided she could work no more. 

Though she'd rather go on with the potions, she knew it was time to stop and face the fearsome chill of reality.

Tucking her gloves in a cabinet and twitching a locking spell at the door, the weight of everything she'd been pushing aside hit her heavily. 

What had Snape been doing all this time? What was his plan and when would she find out about it? Surely he wouldn't make her wait until tomorrow—until the very night…

She swallowed, mounting the stairs that led up to the apparation point for the building. _Just pause for a bit, Lili. Give yourself a break. You've been working hard. Go home, collapse on the bed, and wait for tomorrow._ A thick pain was pulsing at the base of her skull; the beginnings of a dull, gnawing headache.

A few moments later she was at her apartment door, staring at the tall, white frame in silence. The night air was thick—almost wet—and insects seemed to be wailing rather than chirping. Somewhere in the distance the sun had begun to disappear, shadows crawling across the sky. 

She was home. This was her door. _Might as well go on in._

But she made no move. Somehow she knew that, once inside, she wouldn't be able to push it away. It would hit her full force and, exhausted, heart heavy and head aching, she simply couldn't support herself for long.

She tapped the knob lightly, and it creaked open, the high squeak cutting through her aching head, a dull and ragged dagger.

"SURPRISE!"

Her heavy heart lurched into overdrive, unable for a few seconds to comprehend the explosion of sound, light, and faces accosting her.

_Oh right. My birthday._ She realized suddenly what the gnawing ache in her brain had been. _My goddamn birthday._

Olivia was standing in front of a crowd of around ten people; they were all beaming, but Olivia seemed close to bursting. They were wearing little party caps in the shape of pointed black witch hats, and several of them were tooting the sort of noisemakers that forced Lili to reach up and cradle her head.

True to her word, Olivia had not forgotten. The apartment was draped with banners, balloons, streamers, and any number of enchanted smoke and mirrors. The painting above the fireplace—one of Olivia's garish favorites—had burst into life, several tiny rustics jumping around in the frame wishing her a happy birthday. 

It was just the sort of thing that made every muscle in her body involuntarily begin to turn back towards the door. 

"Come in, Lili, come in!" Olivia exclaimed, predicting the turn and intercepting her before an exit was possible. She laced her arm in Lili's and led the weary witch further into the crux of the watching guests. Lili looked about at them flatly. It was just as she'd suspected--almost entirely Olivia's friends. Who else would have come?

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," she said, sitting Lili down on the couch and handing her a party hat marked '21.' "You haven't been home in so many days, I wondered if I'd see you again." 

Lili looked up, ready to apologize, but she could tell Olivia was joking by the smile  cracking the girl's face almost in two. 

_I envy her that smile. I want to smile._

She tried a grin, but only managed a less entrenched frown.

"Let me introduce you to everyone," Olivia said matter-of-factly, then walking her about the room, reeled off a few names and relations. Lili knew only one of the girls; an ex-Hufflepuff beater from Hogwarts named Rosaline Kardiff. The rest were friends of Olivia's from the Ministry or Muggles she knew from work.

All except for the last guest. When she stepped forward to be introduced, Lili managed wide though tired eyes.

"I tried to get Draco and Dia, but they were still on honeymoon in France. This was the next best thing," Olivia explained, gesturing with some exaggeration, nervous to see the neutral look of astonishment on Lili's face.

"Miss—Granger. I must say I'm surprised to see you here." She searched for something more sour but found herself too tired for such exertions.

The young witch was twisting at her hair—a habit which had always annoyed Lili—and it was several moments before she responded. "Yes, I'd imagine. I'm a little surprised to be here myself." A pause. "It's just, well, Olivia owled me and told me about your birthday. And we parted on such bad terms, I've just been wanting to, um, apologize, you know. I was very emotional when I left. I'm—sorry."

There was a distinct turning in her stomach, her face unsure how to respond. Part of her was sickened by the idea of the Gryffindor, so noble and moral, coming to her birthday to apologize and be friendly, flouting her righteousness for all to see and admire. But, beneath the Slytherin bristling, Lili simply couldn't believe the woman had actually come. After all that she'd said—two years of abuse and fighting—the woman had actually come. For whatever reason (Lili was not so sure she completely accepted Hermione's desire to make amends), it took some guts.

Lili nodded, remembering only briefly the harsh words at their last encounter. "Yes well, we were all under a lot of stress at the time." Perhaps it was too close to an admission of regret, but her tongue was heavy and not up to wrestling with subtlety. She looked about, making certain no one besides Olivia had heard the conversation.

Everyone was talking quietly amongst themselves, affording her only curious and quick glances. They all had glasses full of white champagne, sweeping the drinks expressively as they spoke, smiling and reclining on the couches and chairs around the room. She wondered what sort of people would come to a party for someone they didn't even know--and enjoy themselves so much.

_Friends of Olivia's, that's who,_ she thought flatly, rubbing at her head once more. 

"Well, Olivia, thank you so much for remembering my birthday, but I'm really not feeling well," Lili said, doing her best at an apologetic smile and making sure Olivia noticed her cradling her twinging skull. "I think I really just need to rest tonight."

Olivia glanced over at Hermione, as if in disbelief. "You can't rest now! You haven't even opened your presents yet!" Shaking her head, she took Lili by the arm and marched her back to the sofa, throwing her down and offering her the first gift, a large box wrapped in metallic green paper. 

Lili stretched herself slightly to peak over the tall silver bow that blocked her eyes from Olivia's. "They brought presents?" 

Everyone's attention was focused on her now, and she simply refused to believe that so many people who didn't even know her had brought presents.

"Of course!" Olivia said, hitting at the box as if demanding she stop goggling and open her gift. "That one's from me of course. Slytherin colors." Her eyebrow arched. "And you'd better appreciate that, coming from me. I tell you, resisting the red paper and gold bow was a true trial."

There were titters from some of the Hogwarts alumni.

She swallowed and promised herself to both hug and curse Olivia at the next possible opportunity.

She tried to get through the gifts quickly, offering a curt thanks to each individual whose name was scrawled on a tag. Olivia had gifted her with a potions textbook; thoughtful, though it was one Lili already had gathering dust under her bed. There was a good deal of cauldron cleaner, some books about love potions (which Lili supposed Olivia had urged the purchase of), and, from the Muggles, various forms of bath soaps. It took them a good three minutes to explain to Lili the use of bath beads, and, by the time they'd finished, she had more ideas about using them for potions than in her bath.

Hermione's had been the only reasonably enjoyable gift, though it chaffed Lili somewhat to admit her interest in it. It too was a textbook; _Chemical Reactions and Compounds_. Hermione said it was a text used in Muggle schools to teach the Muggle subject of chemistry. Lili nodded, vowing to look over it--if she could. She knew little of anything Muggle, but imagined Hermione had given this to her as it bore some relevance to potion-making.

"Thank you—Hermione," she said coolly, tucking the book under her arm as she rose from her seat and briefly met the other witch's eyes. The significance of the statement had not been lost on her, though she seemed faintly jarred to hear her first name from Lili's lips.

"And thanks, er, everyone," she attempted, not managing much sincerity over the insistent throbbing inside her skull. "But I'm really not feeling too well—"

"Is your stomach bothering you?" Olivia interrupted.

"No, my head."

"Good!" her roommate exclaimed again, grabbing Lili's arm and pulling her toward the kitchen. "Then you can have some cake first. Come on, help me cut it." 

She started to object, but Olivia had already dragged her into the kitchen and was fishing out a large gold cake-cutter from their silverware drawer.

Lili sighed, rubbing her temples, letting her heavy eyes fall to the floor. _Why did I ever tell her my birthday…_

"And here it is…" Olivia said at length, pulling open one of the cupboards and revealing the cake-- a large white mass, gaudily decorated with pink frosting flowers.

"Olivia, I really don't think—"

"Oh, come on! You've been locked in that Ministry dungeon all week: you need to live a little—especially on your birthday!" Olivia slid the cutter through the fluff of cake and icing, eyeing Lili wickedly. "Besides, it's your favorite." 

She pulled a piece out carefully, revealing a dark red center.

Lili expelled a quick syllable of pure astonishment. "Red velvet cake?" She hadn't seen a red velvet cake since her childhood and, suddenly, she felt hungrier than she'd thought possible just two seconds before. She ran her finger through the thick icing, watching it clot in delicious mounds. "How did you know…?"

Olivia's grin deepened, but she simply shrugged and said nothing.

She licked her finger and, though her head throbbed and her stomach roiled with fear and dread of things to come, she couldn't help smiling back. "Thanks."

Olivia only darted a bright eye at her, continuing to press the gold into the cake again and again.

She leaned back against a cabinet, watching Olivia's hands move deftly. For some reason, her eyes were burning, her throat squeezing in an attempt to hold back the sudden rush of emotion that shook her heart. The sensation was neither happy or sad—merely warm, swimming in her stomach, tingling in her veins.

_Here I am, on the edge of what could be death and torture, and I'm about to lose it over some red velvet cake?_

She swallowed deeply.

_No. It's not the cake. It's not the cake, and you know it._

It was Olivia and her streamers and her rounding up of people who'd pretend to care (Lili had already wondered what Olivia had offered them in exchange). It was the fact that her hard-headed Gryffindor roommate had gone on with the party even though Lili had mocked and scorned and openly threatened her. 

And, of course, she'd gone out of her way to find out Lili's favorite kind of cake. From Merlin knew where.

Only two people had ever treated her with such tender attention since she'd returned to England. One of them had drifted away and was now on his honeymoon in France. And the other…

There was a loud thud at the window, and both Lili and Olivia jumped, the latter sending a piece of cake splattering to the floor.

"Oh," Olivia growled, looking between the window and the icing smattered on the kitchen tile. "It's only an owl." She reached up and freed the latch allowing the small, spotted bird to enter.

The owl flew in and immediately made for the ruined cake.

"Well you might as well clean it up, you daft bird," Olivia sighed, bending down to remove the small package tied around the bird's taloned-feet.

Lili watched, amused, as the bird beaked a large piece of spongy cake, letting out a satisfied hoot.

Grumbling, Olivia turned the package over, squinting to read the small tag written in emerald green ink. Her face lit up as if the very meaning of life was scrawled on the box. "Ahh, it's for you," she said, handing it to Lili with obvious relish. "It's from Snape."

Feeling as if slammed flat by a speeding train, Lili grabbed the package, stomach sinking. She had been waiting for some word all week—some hint as to his plan and any role she might play in it. She peeled at the paper almost as intently as Olivia watched her.

Under the thin white paper was another layer of shimmering black paper, and atop the small box, another tag that merely proclaimed sternly, "Happy Birthday."

Olivia danced between her feet. "Oh, a birthday gift. It's awfully small. Hmmm…what could it be? A bracelet? Or perhaps some other small piece of jewelry, eh?" She stepped closer, peeking at the box with greater intensity as if trying to peer straight inside. "Well, let's have it then!"

Lili worked her fingers under the paper slowly, wondering about the contents herself. While she sincerely doubted it was anything along the lines Olivia was suggesting, she had no idea what it might be. The only gifts Snape had ever given her were books, and this was obviously small enough to rule that out. She also had to consider that it might not be a gift at all but something essential to the plan Snape had mentioned before. She wondered whether she shouldn't open it in her room, but suspected Olivia wouldn't stand for that.

"Oh." She pulled the paper aside and held its contents flat in her palm.

Olivia lifted her eyes to Lili's before they sunk back to the small box lying across Lili's hand. "Oh. Bertie Bott's."

Lili swallowed. Bertie Bott's. A small package of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans.

Olivia attempted a slight smile before turning back to the cake with a sigh. "Well, it's the thought that counts, right?"

She rolled the box over several times, taking deep breaths and listening to the beans roll about solidly. 

_Well, Lili, what did you expect? Snape isn't exactly the sort to seek out lavish gifts_. Nor were Bertie Bott's an unusual birthday present. Yes, perfectly acceptable. Except, of course, that she had never particularly liked the candies—a fact she'd mentioned to Snape on several occasions. 

Her grip tightened, fingers poking open the box top with a loud tear.

_It's an acceptable gift, Lili_, she continued repeating to herself, trying to forget that the only time she resorted to giving Honeydukes candies was when she didn't particularly know nor care about the recipient.

_But why should he care so much, really?_ Two years of nothing and only a few brief meetings was hardly enough…

But no. 

Something in her refused to believe that she was merely deluding herself. They had connected at the Café, she was sure of it. They had spoken as friends, as—

She remembered—as if in a flash—his breath on her cheek.

She looked back down at the beans, shaking her head and berating herself for such foolish, inconsequential—

Olivia held out a plate of cake. "Here, have some. It'll make you feel better. It's got a frosting rose and ev—what?"

Lili's eyes were fixed intently on the open box.

"What? What's wrong?"

Lips parted, breath stopped in her throat, Lili pulled a small, silver ring out from between the beans and held it up, watching it as if, somehow, it would come alive.

Olivia let out such a loud squeal, the owl on the floor abandoned his splattered feast and zoomed out the window.

Digging in the box several more seconds, Lili discovered a letter folded and magically shrunk to miniscule size. She abandoned the beans and tapped the letter frantically with her wand, watching it expand, the tiny green dots becoming the familiar long strokes of Snape's hand.

Certain her roommate was merely watching keenly from across the kitchen, she began reading, trying to keep her mind steady.

_Lili,_

She paused, letting her eyes rest upon the word. Her heart skipped a beat before resuming its normal, sensible drumming.

_I hope your birthday finds you well. I'm sure you're surprised to receive this from me as I had requested a complete cessation in our communications. However I assure you this owl was not watched; and likely it does not matter at this time. No doubt you're also perplexed by the ring, but I hope you will not misunderstand my intentions._

She pulled in a deep breath. Intentions? The very word made her palms sweat.  When had Snape ever cared a knut about what she thought of his intentions? And indeed, did he honestly think that she would assume…

_The ring itself was a gift to me from my grandmother Octavia Snape. You may recognize it as, till this day, I have kept it secured to my wand—_

_Yes_, she realized looking at it more closely and remembering the first time she spied the ring, glimmering on his long thin wand during the dueling club. She hadn't even noticed the small writing carved on the backside of it until now. Squinting, she was just able to make out what it said.

"She dwelt among the untrodden ways"

_The writing on it is from a poem my grandmother was rather fond of. I hope you will hold this ring for me, at least until all of what will happen has finally passed. Harm can come to my wand, but never to this ring. Surely I need not tell you to be careful with it. And don't lose it, for Merlin's sake. I know you with your piles of rubbish and papers…_

She rolled her eyes, turning the silver ring over several times in her hand, watching light glimmer off the thin cut words as if the band was inlaid with diamonds.

_I will recover the ring from you after tomorrow night. I appreciate your keeping this—and indeed, all the things you have done for me._

And once again, happy birthday.

Sincerely,

Professor Severus Snape

Lili folded the letter solemnly and returned to examining the ring, mind whirling.

So that, she supposed, was it.

"Well?!" Olivia exclaimed, wringing her hands and obviously fighting the urge to snatch the letter from Lili's grasp.

Pressing her lips together, Lili slipped the ring down on her ring finger, admiring the way it seemed to light up her hand. She turned the writing to the back, then held it out for Olivia to examine.

"Well, it's simple," her roommate said, dashing across the room and taking Lili's thin hands in hers. "But really elegant. And that's real silver—you can tell by the way it glows." 

The two women stood admiring it for a moment in silence, before Olivia could stand it no longer.

"So, what does it mean?"

Lili looked at her only briefly before returning her eyes to the loaned ring.

_Yes, what_ does _it mean._ Of course Snape said he needed her to hold onto it until after the meeting tomorrow night. Did that mean he was quite confident he'd survive? And yet, he was afraid that some harm might come to the ring if it stayed in his possession. What the hell was he planning? And why was it so absolutely essential that she of all people look after this thing?

She began to feel the pounding once more in the back of her skull. "She dwelt among the untrodden ways," she whispered to herself, deep in thought.

And why had he thanked her? "For all the things you've done for me" : what had she ever truly done? And even though she could think of several things, what on earth could have made him admit it? She didn't know whether to feel flattered or incredibly afraid…

"Well, what does it mean?" Olivia pressed, looking as if she might shake Lili to get an answer.

She rubbed only briefly at her temple, feeling far too weary to think about the ring or Snape or all that was in store for both of them come tomorrow. "It means, I think I'll have some of that cake now, if you're done tossing it on the floor."

Olivia moaned, turning away and slapping a piece of cake onto a plate defiantly. "Fine, don't tell me. Leave it up to my fevered imagination."

Lili couldn't help but grin and reached up, taking the cake, admiring the way the silver ring sparkled as she moved her hand.

And suddenly the sparkling became a searing, her arm tensing and buckling in agony, as if a fire had been sparked deep in her bones. 

Her plate crashed to the floor in a horrible explosion of glass. 

_No, not now…it's too early…not until tomorrow…_

She cradled her left arm, her heart shivering wildly against her stomach. 

"Lili, are you okay?" Olivia was at her side, though, through the burning, Lili barely noticed.

"Y—yes. I'm fine." She swallowed, fingering the crook of her arm and trying to mask the abject fear racking her body. "It's--just my head. I think I'd really better lie down." 

Olivia nodded. "Of course. Do you need anything?"

_Yes. I need to disappear, to run away, to simply blink off the face of the earth for a bit. But I suppose you can't help me with that._

"No." Her voice was trembling, and suddenly she couldn't believe that just some minutes earlier she'd been smiling. "In fact, please just leave me to sleep for awhile." 

She didn't wait for Olivia's reaction. She was stumbling blindly, arm still stiff from pain, blood so hot and loud in her ears that she could hear nothing but the fierce hammering of her heart. 

_This isn't right. Something is wrong. Horribly wrong._

She slammed the door to her room and immediately removed her mask and cloak from her locked wardrobe. 

Closing it, she noticed the ring glittering on her finger. She couldn't wear it, but…somehow she couldn't cast it aside. She slid it in her robe pocket where it sat heavily next to the bezoar she kept for emergencies.

Tears burning in her eyes, muscles taut and aching with dread, she fitted the mask over her face, hiding it all behind a sheer, cold layer of black.

_I wonder if I'll ever come back here, to this room. See Olivia again…_

But the time for wondering was over. It was time to face the deepest fears in her heart…

She disappeared with a pop, and the room was still and silent.

*************************

A/N: Well, it's been awhile and for that I apologize. Once I got back to America, I seem to have gotten carried away with being in college once more. But, after three essay midterms, I found time to get some serious writing done. And it appears I'll have time to get the next chapter out soon enough, so as not to torture you guys here with a cliffhanger.

This chapter has yet to be really revised, so please excuse it if it seems abit rough, especially towards the end. I'll replace it with a more editted version soon (probably tomorrow), so if you want to wait, be my guest. I just felt I was holding out on yall too long...o:p>

Things are about to explode, folks. Stay tuned. Same bat time, same bat channel.

And thank you to Roz for really getting me in gear!

Tentative date for Chapter 7: Friday, October 18th. (perhaps earlier)


	8. Tu Qiong Bi Xian

_Chapter Seven:_ Tu Xiong Bi Xian

The wet night air had exploded into torrential rain. Solid drops pounded like stones on the roof, and, glancing up, she prayed the ceiling would burst, water flooding in, drowning them all.

But Malfoy Manor stood, unswayed, and the two men seated with her in the waiting parlor seemed wholly unaware of the tempest roaring past. Walden Macnair, seated beside her, examined his wine glass apathetically while exchanging terse words with Jeremiah Avery.

"Well, I can understand that," Avery replied, leaning against the mantle and dismissing Macnair's comment with a flippant turn of his head. "But my point is, you can't just ignore the fact this his grandmother was a squib—and a Muggle-lover if there ever was one."

Mancnair grunted, whether in assent or protest, Lili couldn't tell.

"I mean, I sent my children to Durmstrang precisely to keep them from the sort of Mudblood, Muggle-loving filth you find at Hogwarts these days," Avery continued, seeming to ignore the glazed look in Macnair's eyes. "And I'm supposed to accept the fact that my daughter goes and finds the one wizard in the whole place without a completely solid, respectable family line?" He snorted, pulling down a large gulp of whatever white liquid he'd poured for himself. "She keeps feeding me all this nonsense about how it's been so many generations, and he's not at all like that. Well, I said, do you know what your grandmother was? –The wife of one of the most influential Ministry heads that ever lived? And a formidable witch in her own right…"

Avery paused for another drink, and Macnair shot Lili a look. Neither of them chose to point out that this was a blatant lie.

"I mean does she really want to risk having a squib?" The alcohol in his glass sloshed as he gesticulated wildly. "Even the slightest hint of weak blood in a family used to be enough for any sensible witch to pass a man by." He sighed.

He seemed to have finished his tirade, and Lili was glad as both her liquor and patience were running low.

"Look at Malfoy's new daughter-in-law," Macnair said, leaning back into the sofa with a throaty sigh. "Now that's a good match. The Morrighans are a good family, and they've always stood firm and had their pride. And that girl did well enough in school; seems amiable."

"Yes," Avery agreed, languidly, pursing his lips. "And gorgeous too."

Lili's stomach turned. She stilled it with a long swallow of brandy. Macnair, having seemingly exhausted his opinion, settled into his normal grunts of assent.

Avery sighed. "And what do you think, Lili?" He arched an eyebrow in her direction.

She felt a sneer crawling across her face. "Well, Jeremiah, Dia's not really my type."

She was rewarded with a nasal laugh. "No, no. I mean about marriage. Would you marry for love," he spat this word out distastefully, "no matter _what_?" His eyes met hers with a surprising intensity.

She swallowed another mouthful of her brandy. "Frankly, I don't plan on marrying at all—no matter what." Doing the best she could to stare back at him with equal force, she leaned back in her chair, searching for something else solid, strong. "I've already pledged my loyalties to one man. No need to complicate things."

This seemed enough to silence Avery for a greater length, and Lili sighed, unsure whether to feel relieved by the quiet or more disturbed by it. Avery's rant had at least distracted her slightly; now she found her mind whirring again, sweat rising hot under the bends of her knees.

Only the sound of assailing rain roared through the room. 

Where was everyone else? She'd been sitting in the waiting parlor for almost an hour now, and only Avery, Macnair and two houselves had joined her. 

And, more crucially, where was Severus? Did this early call interfere with what he'd planned? Or was it because of his plan…

Her heart hammered, muscles beginning to ache with weakness, stretched painfully tense.

_Where is he?_

The door opened with one long, smooth creak, and she found herself jumping to her feet, stomach roiling with nervous anticipation. Avery and Macnair followed but with considerably greater calm.

Lucius Malfoy adjusted his cloak a moment before dragging a tight smile across the room. "Ahh good. All here I see."

"All, Lucius?" Avery said, setting his glass down on the mantle with a sneer. "I count three here. Surely our Lord's numbers aren't so depressed."

"Ahh, no. We've only one who's turned, don't worry." Lucius matched him, sneer for sneer. "This little gathering is not meant for a wider audience; it's by invitation only." He held out his upper forearm to show his mark, too, still slightly red on the skin. 

Lili's heart leaped up in her throat, fluttering, pounding against her tongue.

_Some invitation_, she snarled inwardly, trying with all her might not to imagine what possibilities an elite Death Eater meeting could have in store.

She dug her heels into the ground, relaxing her aching body as best she could.

_Take deep breaths. Long, deep. That's good. Remember what he used to say. _

Pretend you're blind, Miss Lee. If you don't see anything horrifying, it's much easier to drown the rest out…

She blurred her vision slightly, relaxing, sinking more into the floor.

"Now, gentlemen—and lady of course— if you have finished your drinks, I believe our Lord is waiting." Lucius' steely eyes met hers, and he smiled.

She squeezed her glass hard, pouring the remainder of its contents, burning, down her throat. The deep heat drizzled through her, settling heavy and hot in her belly. Her palms were slick, and, cautiously, she wiped them on the insides of her pockets, fingers brushing briefly against the solid metal of Snape's ring.

_Breathe. Breathe._ It seemed that if she didn't remind herself, she would suffocate from the anxiety.

The four of them entered into the next room, the chamber normally reserved at Malfoy Manor for such meetings. She had first entered it two years before; she had seen him, slithering in the darkness, and, holding her arm above the fire, he had burned that black magic under her skin, eyes glinting like the lightning now staining the night sky. 

But it was different tonight, different than it had ever been. The whole room was flooded with bright light, the fireplace empty, a cold gray box. She could see every fold in his robe, every vein under his skin as he turned from the naked windows, head silhouetted by rain driving against the glass.

He smiled. "Malfoy. Avery. Macnair. Lee."

Each of them came forward in the order called, bending to the ground and kissing the bottom of his robes with a whispered, "My Lord." It was something she had learned to do without much thought, but tonight she found herself concentrating hard, doing her best to seem as deferent and fawning as possible. Not, of course, that it would change anything, if Snape was right. She prayed again that he knew what was happening—that somehow, this was all a good sign…

"Miss Lee." 

Her eyes lifted from the ground, meeting his blazing, serpentine glaze. "My Lord?"

"Happy Birthday." 

Her drumming heart slowed, her muscles that had tightened in preparation to run, loosened in a flood of adrenalin. 

"Th--thank you, my Lord." She backed away from him several feet before standing, careful to keep her eyes turned from his. 

They all stood for several moments, watching him in tense silence. He had returned to his position at the window, turned half-way towards the four waiting Death Eaters and half-way towards the dark, pounding rain. 

"Lay down your masks," he said at last. "You'll have no need of them after tonight."

Macnair and Avery looked at her questioningly. She shrugged, bending down to set her mask on the thick carpet, heart back, thudding, against her stomach.  

_You won't need them after tonight…_

She did her best to smooth her ragged breathing.

"No doubt you're all wondering why I've called you here," he continued, keeping his gaze fixed on the streaked window. "It will all be made clear." He paused. "In time."

Blood ran hot under her skin, rain striking the glass in tandem with the pounding of her heart. She wasn't sure how long she could wait without bursting into tears of frustration…

"First let me tell you about Junia," he began, leaning against the window seal and running a long, serpentine finger down the glass, tracing the path of several raindrops, before continuing. "No doubt by now you all know she was a double agent. For almost four years she told our secrets, even some of our names to officials at the Ministry…" His voice hissed low and dangerous, and Lili was quite glad that his flashing eyes were turned away. "I found out about her treachery through one of my Ministry connections. Needless to say I was deeply pained. I waited for several weeks, knowing that she had planned a holiday in France. We intercepted her there, and, on the way back to England –we were forced to take a rather inconvenient Muggle boat as poor Junia was in no shape to apparate—we came across a very interesting _something_." She didn't have to see his face to know the awful smirk curling across its thin, inhuman skin. "A tiny island in the middle of the sea—too small to be named, too small to be known. And guess what we found there, imprisoned on that island, dying, starving without human contact?" 

But no one needed to hear his answer. The word was already in their mouths.

"The Ministry had placed the Dementors on this island after taking them from Azkaban," he continued, letting one of his nails scratch on the glass for a moment. "They were pitiful, starving for someone to feed upon. I gave them our Muggle captain but could not yet give them Junia, who they desperately wanted. We took this opportunity to question her, prepared to give her over to them when she was no longer of any use..." 

Lili was shaking beneath her robes, fingers sweating yet cold as ice. She knew what "questioning" entailed and for the first time in several weeks, saw Junia's face, mutilated and wailing in pain…

"Unfortunately, it seems, she had a rather weak heart," he said, sounding like a man who'd had a prize pulled from his hands, "and she died before she could get her kissss." It was now that he chose to turn from the window, looking over their faces with wide, cruel eyes. "But she was able to give us some more rather disturbing information first…"

He was pacing in front of them now, meeting their eyes individually several times before continuing. "The treachery, it seems, went deeper than one."

Lili had forgotten to breathe. Her eyes met Voldemort's, sad, ready.

"Severusss Snape." The name was little more than a hiss, but it ripped through her skin, echoing through her ears like fire. _Severus. Snape._ Just as in her dreams…nightmares…

"She had been reporting to him for several years, and he, in turn, went to the Ministry, telling them all she knew." Voldemort's voice was raised now, his slit nostrils dilating with thin, sharp breaths. "He had, since even before the time of our last downfall, turned against us, working under the protection of that hooked nose fool…"

From somewhere outside herself, Lili heard Avery whispering something to Macnair. Tears were burning behind her eyes, her body seeming far away. 

_Severus. Snape._ The name still hissed through her mind, her eyes quivering, covered, like the window, with streaking rain. 

_Severus. Snape._

Somewhere in the distance, lightning flashed, followed by the dull rumble of thunder. She felt it deep in the root of her heart.

"Kill him. We'll kill him, my Lord."

Voldemort continued, sweeping past them again, ignoring Avery's comment. "We have suffered for many years, my friends. We have been put down by Muggle-lovers, and Mudbloods, and wizards who've forgotten their pride—and now by traitors." His face itself was flat, but his eyes smoldered, the deep red of flames. "But no more!" 

His voice shook her weak heart, and she felt the cruel sneer that slit his face ripping the last of her hope from her.

"The time, my friends, has come."

Every inch of her skin tingled, her eyes burning, her heart engorged with drumming blood and sorrow. She could feel her muscles groan, a faintness tickling the base of her skull. The pounding of her headache had returned.

"The four of you—Malfoy, Macnair, Avery, Lee—have been called here tonight to take the reigns of glory." He looked at them each slowly, fanatically, blood-lust and zeal radiating from behind his fiery eyes. "We will take out this traitor—but much more. We will attack him at his very home."

Ice. Ice in her veins, in her bones.

"Hogwartsss," he hissed, with a slitted, curling grin.

Her muscles snapped and only her bones of ice kept her standing.

"Even now, the armies I have been amassing for the last years are readying themselves." His words tumbled into one another in their excitement, and he did not bother pausing for breath. "The four of you have been chosen to head the attack, and, after victory, to take all the glory that is rightly yours. After Hogwarts is razed and that Muggle-loving fool killed, the rest of the wizarding world will know our might and will fall like trees in a mighty wind. And then no one will dare to stand against us!"

She was numb, her heart and lungs barely able to move under the cold, dead weight of her body.

_Tu qiong bi xian_. The map is unrolled, the dagger revealed.

"Many of the Aurors have been sent away," he continued, his smile growing with every new revelation. "We have, for several months, been sending the Ministry false rumors of threat through our inside contacts. Our reports seem to show that only half of their forces are close enough to aide Hogwarts. That is, if they have time to contact anyone once they realize what's happening…"

It was the first time she'd ever heard Voldemort laugh. High, pitiless, it hung like poison in the air.

It rang in her ears beside the buzz of a name.

_Severus. Snape._

No hope. It was over. There was nothing that could be done.

She pictured him, slunk over his desk, grading essays in that dark red ink. The door fell in. Screams, blood. And Dementors floating in like black ghosts, white, horrible mouths closing over his…

She breathed in sharply, the air hot and full of poisoned shards of laughter. The wind picked up outside, throwing a fresh battering of rain against the glass.

"My Lord, we are amazed," Avery said at some length. "Amazed and overjoyed."

Macnair joined in quickly. "Yes, my Lord. You—we—have waited so long."

Malfoy merely smiled. 

_He knew all along_…

She swallowed the bitter mixture of bile and tears that rose in her throat.

"And what about you, Miss Lee?" He asked, turning and meeting her shining eyes with a gaze of fire. "What do you think of my birthday present to you?"

Her voice barely escaped, a rasp, a whisper. "I—I don't know what to say, my Lord." She swallowed again, forcing what seemed the last bit of strength into her lungs. "To stand among such company—it—an honor—" 

She trusted herself to say no more.

His eyes held hers with the painful fierceness of a vice. He was looking through her, looking past her eyes into her mind. "You have earned it, Miss Lee," he hissed, gripping her thoughts in his gaze, squeezing, refusing to look away…

_Let me go…please…please…_

Her muscles shook with fear, weakness.

The names hissed again in her ear. _Hogwartsss. Severus. Snape._

"You've all earned it." 

His eyes drifted away from her, and she felt as she had so many years earlier—_What only two?_

A puppet with her strings cut.

But she stood, too empty and rigid to fall.

_Severus. Snape._

And could she leave? Run? Apparate to him now? 

And what then? She couldn't stand against an army. And, neither, she feared, could Hogwarts, even with Albus Dumbledore…

"You shall all retire now and look over the documents I've set aside for you," he instructed, turning once more to the battered window. "Get some rest and prepare yourselves. We attack at dawn."

She glanced over, through bubbling eyes, at the standing clock that now chimed, loud and menacing. 

_Eleven o'clock, and all's well…_

She turned, knowing that, if she didn't move, she would surely faint.

Where she was going, she didn't know. She was lost. Lost. But she had to walk. She had to do something….

An icy grip wrapped about her arm. 

"Lili, I hope you'll let me escort you to your room." Lucius Malfoy's fingers burned cold against her skin. "Of course you can't stay with the three of us men. We've had your old room prepared specially."

_Very kind of you_. She spoke the words as she thought them, mind and body only briefly meeting. She had looked for hope from Snape two years earlier; written him from that room. She had poured out rivers of sweat and tears into those sheets. 

She thought briefly, randomly, of Artibius pressed up against her chin, clicking consolingly.

She hadn't seen him before she left…

The mere thought seemed to topple the little fortitude she'd been clinging to, tears stinging in her eyes, and she turned away from Malfoy long enough to wipe them away. 

"All your documents will be on the writing desk in your room," he informed her, nearing the door and shooing away some houselves who were scurrying about with tea and papers. "We'll be reassembling at three—the rest of the Circle will be present then." 

_All but one. And he'll be dragged out soon enough…_

"I'll be there." Her voice was no longer hers, her heart no longer beating. 

Malfoy smiled again, brushing his fingers down her arms as he let her go. "Get some rest, Lili. You're not looking well."

"I'll be ready." 

At some point he walked away. At some point the houselves had dispersed. At some point, she had collapsed into the desk chair, eyes alternately crying uncontrollably and scanning the lists of creature and men in Voldemort's army.

The list went on and on. Her hopes dissolved.

There was no way Hogwarts could survive this attack, not without warning. 

But how? 

She had no means of contacting them. She couldn't use any of the Malfoys' mail owls. Besides, there wasn't time. 

She had only two choices. 

She could stay, lead the army, and do her best to weaken Voldemort's position from that end.

A face appeared in her mind, unbidden. Slick with black blood, skin pale as death, voice desperate, screaming her name…

What would they do to him? What would become of him if she didn't…

Her fingers had moved, without her knowledge, to the ring in her pocket. She pulled it out, watching the light dance over the thin cut letters manically. 

Outside, the rain assailed the Manor, trying to drown it and its vile inhabitants. 

_If Hogwarts can be saved, I'd be glad to drown._

Knees shaking, heart burning with fear, she picked the papers up from the desk and tucked them under her arm. She pulled the ring on her finger, staring out the window at a bolt of lightning slicing white across the night.

_It's over, Lili. The farce is over._

They would come to her room at three o'clock and find it empty. 

****************************

The rain had soaked through the ground, and her feet sloshed deep in mud as she ran, falling, crawling, doing all she could though blinded by drops assailing her eyes.

The tall metal gates were locked, and she shook them, desperate, weak. She had run from Hogsmeade, her lungs burning, her heart taut to the point of excruciating pain. Gasping, she ripped her wand from her heavy, sodden robes and blew the gates apart in a rain of sparks.

She cut through a small edge of the Forbidden Forest, ignorant of the eyes watching her, or the voices and creatures following on her heels. The blood pounded so hot in her ears, the water stung in her eyes—she saw only the castle and its doors.

She ran past Hagrid's hut, screaming his name; but she did not stop. She slipped and pulled herself up without even realizing it, feet set on her path.

Trying to wheeze out a cry for help, she pounded on the tall doors. _Doom. Doom._ Doubled over, her tiny, cold fists pounded again and again, each time threatening to be the last she could manage. _Doom. Doom._

The doors opened with a creak, and Minerva McGonagall, clad in her red and gold pajamas, held out her lighted wand in alarm. 

Lili crouched on the ground, panting, barely able to see the blur of light through her stinging, dripping eyes. 

"Miss—Lee?" Professor McGonagall could hardly recognize her, soaked and heaving, almost in a breathless heap on the ground. 

She nodded, pushing at the curls plastered wet across her face. "Y—yes," she huffed, swallowing mouthfuls of rain as she tried to stand and speak. "M—must—warn—Dumb—le—"

She stopped, and took a deep breath, her lungs aflame.

"I must speak with the Headmaster," she cried, meeting the old witch's wide eyes with streaming tears. "They're coming…"

**********************

A/N: Well, only a day past—not bad! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. It's getting intense, and I hope that I'm still pleasin' as well as teasin' ;o) The next chapter will be fun. And the one after that, well…we'll just take it a step at a time…

Please let me know what you think! I'm starting the next chapter as we speak…

Tentative date for Chapter Eight: Monday, October 28


	9. Belladonna Bloom

_Chapter Eight_: Belladonna Bloom

She wrapped the woolen blanket more closely about herself, forcing another glance at Dumbledore's sad, lined face. His eyes danced in the firelight, twinkling in a way heavier and duller than she'd ever seen. 

He'd listened without a single movement save summoning the blanket to her shivering body. When she'd finished, teeth chattering, on the verge of frantic suffocation, he'd merely nodded, sent for McGonagall, and stared, silent, into the fire. 

Somehow, seeing him like that made the despair sink deeper beneath her skin than the chill of her sodden robes.

"Headmaster—" she said, biting her bottom lip and attempting to keep her voice smooth over the crackling fire. "Don't you think—we need to do something?"

"Of course, Miss Lee. I've sent Professor McGonagall to round up the other teachers and send an urgent owl to the Ministry."

She swallowed. "Have you looked over the papers?" She knew very well that he had not but could think of no gentler way of urging him to do so.

He shook his head and continued gazing into the fire, blue eyes battling with the orange of licking flames. 

Lili stood, blanket still wrapped about herself, and crossed the room to his desk. She picked up the papers and began reading them aloud, trying to detach herself from the words. 

"Elizabeth Lee's division, 150 strong. 10 Death Eater loyals. 20 Dementors. 10 giants (5 paid mercenary).  4 Langanores. 12 Black Orcs. 17 Shadow-eaters—"

The door creaked open behind her, and a pale haggard face peered in. 

"Albus?" 

"Come in Remus," Dumbledore sighed, turning from the fireplace and making for his desk. He took the papers from Lili's hands and began reading for himself. 

Lupin entered, Professor Sprout close behind. Then Flitwick, looking most disconcerted, and behind him Madame Hooch glowered, fierce as usual. 

Lili's eyes scanned the entering professors closely, watching. Binns, Sinistra, Hagrid…where _was_ he?

Professor Trelawney was the last to enter, hair wrapped in an elaborate purple and red turban, slender-fingered hand on her temples, rubbing as if easing a horrible pain. "Oh! I knew something was bound to happen tonight! I've been seeing signs in my tea leaves for weeks…"

Professor McGonagall returned just in time to hear this and shut the office door with a rather loud thwack. 

"Yes, Sibyll, indeed something _has_ happened," Dumbledore said, replacing the papers and threading his fingers loosely over frowning lips. "Something very—serious."

Lili glanced around only once more, trying desperately to find him. But it was difficult to see past Professor Sprout's robust figure, and Dumbledore's words quickly diverted her thoughts.

He'd begun by explaining her situation, and she sank low into the chair, hoping not to draw much attention as he recounted the events of two years previous. Occasionally, she felt a gaze slide over her, but mostly, the teachers concentrated on the Headmaster, seeming to sense what was coming…

Once he had stopped speaking of her, Lili ventured a look around the room, trying to gauge the professor's reactions. McGonagall looked grim; no doubt Dumbledore had already revealed to her the full severity of the situation-- she certainly looked it. Sprout seemed on the verge of tears, and one of Professor Flitwick's tiny hands patted her on the shoulder as he listened, intent. Hooch's hawkish eyes flashed while Lupin's seemed dull and sad. Everyone else merely watched, quiet and stunned, seemingly unable to believe their ears. She herself was only just now coming to terms with the idea that, in a few hours, this castle would be a battleground…

"So, as you no doubt agree," Dumbledore said, his voice rasping as he finished his explanation by leaning slightly on his desk, "this is a grave situation indeed. Professor McGonagall has sent an owl to the Ministry requesting every Auror they can spare." He paused, letting his heavy, dull gaze filter across each of the teachers' faces. "But, of course, they may not be able to receive the owl and mobilize in time for—the first wave of attack."

_Yes, he'd seen enough of those papers,_ Lili thought, pushing away a drop of sweat beading on her forehead. She glanced up in time to see the professors' expressions darken even further. _First wave_. No, this was no rag-tag bunch of Death Eaters; it was an army. A _formidable_ army. She wiped again at her sweating brow, releasing the woolen blanket from its close, hot embrace.

"Headmaster," Lupin intoned after a humid pause. "I think, given the fact that reinforcements might not arrive in time for the—initial attack, we should consider utilizing some of the prefects and seventh years in our defense. On a voluntary basis of course." 

The air burned like smoke in her mouth, and she noticed several professors hold their breaths, equally stifled at this suggestion.

Sprout let out a withered cry. "They're children, Albus. We can't ask them to fight, to battle like soldiers risking their lives—"

"Professor." Her voice, after years of practice, managed to ring with a composure she knew she didn't possess. "If you'll excuse me for saying so, those children won't have any lives left if Hogwarts gets taken. And I don't think some twenty professors are going to be able to stop an army as large and well-organized as—" She stopped. No need to say the name. _No need to let them know how desperate things really are…_

She sank back into the chair, reminded of the heavy pressing in her heart.

"Miss Lee is right," Dumbledore said, standing straighter and attempting a consoling twinkle in Sprout's direction. "It's a deplorable situation, but I can see no other options. The Dark Lord's army is strong, and while there are many special forces protecting Hogwarts, I cannot guarantee that the Dark Lord has not learned of them during his time on the premises some years ago. I can also not guarantee that he has not learned ways to counter them…"

"Yes. I understand. I just wish—"

Dumbledore offered her a heavy smile. "We all do, my dear. We all do." His voice faded into a distant silence, and Lili could tell from the many glazed expressions and loose frowns that the teachers had become lost momentarily in their own thoughts—their own visualizations of what was to come…

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat slightly, stepping forward as if urging the conversation on. "I will vouch for the Gryffindor prefects and seventh years willingness, but—" She hesitated, eyes flitting askance before continuing. "Well, can all the houses be…counted on…to remain—" She stopped, but her point was clear enough.

Though weary, Lili nevertheless felt herself bristling. There had been, of late, quite a few cases of older Slytherins confessing to attempts at joining the Dark Lord. The case that week had been highly publicized, and now, more than ever, Slytherins had fallen prey to skeptical eyes and whispered rumors. She was sure McGonagall wasn't the only one harboring fears of being betrayed by Salazaar's house in battle. 

Fists clenching, Lili stood and began to respond.

It was not her voice, however, that answered, and, hearing the deep, threatening silk, her own words choked dry in her throat. 

"If, Minerva, you are referring to Slytherin and its loyalties, you might care to note that, if it weren't for a certain Slytherin here, we wouldn't even know what was coming..." 

Professor Sprout stepped back slightly, revealing the gaunt, black-robed form leaning against the far wall, flanked by the comparatively radiant red of Fawkes. His long, slender fingers were entwined in the bird's bright feathers, the circles usually dull gray under his eyes now seemed a deeply entrenched brown.

"Yes, Severus is quite right," Dumbledore said, stepping over towards Lili and laying a warm hand on her shoulder. "Miss Lee has brought us this information at great personal cost. We owe her and Slytherin house a good deal of gratitude and respect." His eyes twinkled down at her in the way that had always made her feel safe. Even now, she marveled, she saw in those eyes a strength and a hope that forced her hands to stop trembling. 

Dumbledore gave her another quick smile before releasing her and returning to the professors. "Now is not the time for mistrust or house rivalries. We must gather together and immediately. Madame Hooch, I'll need to you to begin rounding up all the prefects and seventh years willing to fight. Professor Lupin, I hope you'll give them a bit of training, if you can, and then help Filius set up some wards on the castle walls. And remember, they'll have some experts with them, so make them difficult to break. Poppy—"

Lili watched as Dumbledore called on each of the staff members, sending them off bustling in preparation. They all agreed—brief nod, wide eyes—and hurried out.

"Severus."

Snape stood straighter, pulling his fingers from the phoenix delicately. His eyes only brushed her before falling on Dumbledore. 

"Severus, I'm sure you'll have all those potions the Ministry's been asking you for. Gather those and distribute them. Find whatever you might have prepared or anything in your personal stores that might be of some use." 

Snape nodded but, hesitating a moment, kept his eyes on the Headmaster.

"Is something wrong, Severus?"

His face remained flat, and he took a deep breath before answering, low. "I was wondering if Miss Lee might assist me. We might be able to get a little last minute brewing done, and I'm sure she—"

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore said, waving his gnarled hand as if refusing to hear further justification. "Miss Lee?"

Lili nodded and crossed the room in several hurried strides. He stood far taller than her, eyes staring down over his hooked nose.

The Dark Lord's hissing voice rattled through her ears, a rumbling memory. 

_Severus. Snape._

Unconsciously, her hand balled, the metal on her ring finger cool against her palm. 

What could she say? Had he guessed? She swallowed, trying to find the words to tell him. _You're doomed, Severus. The Dark Lord is looking for you, he'll find you, and—_

But he gave her no time. He turned, robes rushing up around him like a storm cloud, and plunged down the stairs out of sight, footfalls heavy and frantic as thunder. 

Hesitating, Lili turned to glance one last time at the Headmaster, but he was not paying attention. Slumped over his desk, he was examining the papers once more, gnarled hand cradling his forehead.

"Albus?" 

It was the voice of Sibyl Trelawney, who sat, quite forgotten.

The Headmaster looked up.

"Albus, what can I do?" Her normally shrill and airy voice, seemed to echo, all at once, with the quiet strength of a prophet's. 

He nodded grimly. "Consult your crystal, Sibyl. Keep me advised."

Tears again stinging her eyes, Lili turned and threw herself towards the stairs, towards the dungeons, refusing even a second to feel the teeth of reality that pressed, nipping, at her heels.

************************

She crawled backwards out of the dusty cabinet, coughing but vial in hand. 

"What is it?" 

It took her a moment to stifle the cough, brushing some more dust from her robes. "Another exploding elixir." 

"What's that make?"

She looked down the tables, counting silently. "Uh, it looks like thirty-one exploding elixirs, sixteen fog formulas, thirty-seven acid throwers, forty-five petrification serums, six Alleviolixirs, and, uh, three blasting brews."

Snape said nothing, merely looking up from his crouched position at the opposite cabinet and tabulating distractedly. 

He had spoken of nothing but potions since they'd burst into the dungeons. Part of her was glad to be distracted for a time. Another part, however, wanted to talk to him about—what was coming…

Snape stood and floated across the room, opening a high cabinet and digging through it intently. 

"There should be more exploding elixirs somewhere…"

She turned and moved on to the next cabinet, digging through several batches marked as the third years' attempts at shrinking potions, searching for anything that might prove useful. 

"I assume he knows about me."

The words caught her off guard, slicing through the dungeon air. 

"Yes."

"Have you considered why he made you one of the four captains?"

She hadn't expected this question, and crawled out of the cabinet slightly, looking up at him. "N-no. Why? What are you—thinking?"

He allowed his dark eyes to flicker down at her before returning to his search. "It just seems odd that he would have chosen you, a servant of two years, when there were still several who'd served him long before…"

Her hand reached back to the cold stones of the dungeon floor for support. Her heart lurched, and she could hear in his voice something very serious. "What are you saying? Do you think he—" She paused, sure to steel her voice. "He knows about me as well?"

The clattering of dusty vials stopped, and Snape turned, abandoning the cabinet altogether. Shadows littered his face. "I think he suspected. Tonight was a test."

No longer trusting her own strength, Lili sat back against the cabinets, bringing her shivering hands to her head. Fear gripped her heart, but it gave her little time to dwell on it, another chilling thought running hard upon. 

"So—then mightn't it be a trick? He tells me we're attacking Hogwarts and then, when all the Aurors get here, he hits the Ministry?"

Snape leaned against one of the tables weakly looking suddenly very tired. "No, I've no doubt the attack is genuine. A ruse of that sort wouldn't be his style: it smacks of cowardice, and he wants the final showdown. He hasn't amassed that army for nothing."

Her heart was beating so loudly she could barely make out Snape's low voice over the slow rumble in her ears. 

"And besides, everything he wants is here." Snape's hands abandoned the vials, and he met Lili's eyes, wrapping his dark gaze around her heart. "Me, you, Dumbledore—" He paused. "But he did use you to get all the Aurors in one place. And I have no doubt that group will include—"

"Potter." She was barely able to whisper the name.

Snape nodded grimly.

_Of course_. It was so clear to her now. Her mind filled with the glances of Malfoy, of Macnair, the Dark Lord. They'd all known. 

_Happy Birthday, Missss Lee_, she heard him hissing in her ear. She felt his hot breath on her face. He'd known…

"But how…how could he have known…"

Snape shrugged, glancing at her uneasily, then looking away. "Who knows? Maybe Junia—"

"No, if it'd been Junia, Draco never would have been allowed to tell me about the name they'd gotten from her," she interrupted, mind whirring. "He'd never even have been sent to me. No, it had to have happened sometime after that."

"And before the night of Draco's wedding, when he suspected something—between us—"

Lili nodded. She had seen Snape only one time between Draco's visit to her apartment and that night at Malfoy Manor. 

The Café. 

Her mind hit on Olivia, but she quickly dismissed the idea. That girl was barely able to walk and chew gum at the same time: the life of a double agent wouldn't have suited her.

"Then it must have been some passer-by around the café that night," she sighed, trying to remember any face she'd seen. "A fluke. A stroke of—"

She fell off, all her veins frozen, blood turned to ice. 

Snape turned his eyes to her, brow furling. "What? What is it?"

"Olivia's boyfriend," she muttered, remembering his spectacled face, his mole-like eyes and his odd surprise at seeing Lili and Snape there. "It had to have been him. Voldemort kept mentioning a contact within the Ministry, one that had been very helpful…"

Snape's lips drew back in disgust. "DEMA," he spat, letting his flashing eyes drift over the vials on the table.

"He must have seen us there together, and, knowing about you, told the Dark Lord of our suspicious meeting." She sighed, and moved her massaging hands down the knots of her neck. "And, no doubt, because I swore her to secrecy, Olivia told him that we were romantically involved. Oh, for Merlin's sake, trust her to find the only spy at the Ministry…"

Snape snorted, obviously unsure of what to say.

Her whole body was soaked in weakness, heavy and resigned. Suddenly the visions in her mind were of her body atop Snape's corpse, beaten, mutilated dying slow…

_It's only a matter of hours now, Lili. Soon, it will all be over in a blaze of curses and pain and the cracking of bones, the bursting of veins…_

She was too numb, too tired, to register any of the emotions she knew must be burning somewhere in the back of her mind. She pushed herself up from the ground, pushing the thoughts away.

As she learned. _As he taught you._

Snape's eyes accidentally grazed hers, and the two looked away, trying to find something—anything--to busy themselves once more. 

"I swear there are more exploding elixirs than we have here." Despite his attempts to keep his voice level, it quavered slightly.

"I haven't checked your office stores yet. I'll look." 

She was half way in his office, fingers wrapped through the handles of his personal cabinets, before he could object.

Opening them, she saw why. 

On the top shelf, glowing dully, a small clear vial filled with dark purple liquid seemed almost to hum, standing out from the strange concoctions sitting innocent around it. She pulled it down carefully, noting the black diamond capping it, glittering stern in the torchlight.  

It was warm to the touch, and even through the glass of the vial, she could smell it, the thick scent of spice and flowers and--something else. Something entrancing…

Snape stood frozen in the doorway, looking at her as she cradled the bottle in her palm. 

Lili's heart ached, the vial seeming so hot she was afraid the flesh of her hands might begin to sizzle.

He said nothing, refusing to look away.

"Belladonna Bloom." She could barely whisper.

She swallowed, her throat dry, tight. Her mind had not even needed a moment to understand the potion's meaning. 

Her knees creaked with the threat of giving way, and she leaned against the cabinet in some attempt to remain standing.

Pictures and text from _Complex Concoctions _fed through her mind as if on a reel of film. 

_Belladonna Bloom. Invented by Julius Caelius approx 58 C.E., the formula, while very difficult to make is one of the greatest breakthrough poison potions in existence. The potion sedates the drinker, taking hold of every vital organ and shutting it off, individually. The dulled drinker feels nothing but a euphoria before, slowly, the potion shuts down brain functioning, and the drinker dies. Because of its painless nature, this potion has been traditionally used not only as a poison but as a means of suicide_

She met his eyes.

"Lili—"

"This." It was a hoarse whisper, but enough to silence him. "_This_ was your plan?"

He stepped back, looking somehow mortally wounded. 

"I—"

"Your plan was to _kill yourself_?" Her muscles stiffened, her voice boomed, and Snape's thin form threatened to be toppled.

"I—"

"You were just going to come in here, drink this, and then the next morning I'd get an owl from Dumbledore— And you thought you'd just die, noble, tragic—" She squeezed the burning bottle in her palm, feeding on the hot pain. 

Snape didn't attempt to speak again.

"And you'd leave me here, alone!" She felt close to breaking, her skin taut, ready to rip open at the seams. "How could you even think—how could you—" She tried desperately to regain some bit of composure, but her heart, in defiance of all the tricks and demands of her mind, wailed out. 

It turned in the tight, aching sinews of her chest, realizing. 

"That letter you sent me," she whispered, gaping at him. "It was…it was a suicide note. You were giving me this to have after you—" She raised her trembling hand, and the ring sparkled obscenely at her.

The words of the letter came back, in a rush. _I appreciate your keeping this—and indeed, all the things you have done for me._

She closed her eyes, but images still snaked through her mind, biting at her heart. He was lying on the floor of his office, limp. Who would have found him? Probably Filch. Or one of his students. Or maybe—if she'd come just a second later from the Manor—maybe she'd have found him there, lying across those gray stones, dark eyes open but unseeing, pale skin cold and tinted purple from the potion…

"Lili, I had no choice." His voice, flat, seemed to strike her hard. "They knew about me. And if they'd taken me, they'd have forced me to talk, to tell them things."

She couldn't even look at him, trying to hide in the darkness of her veiling lids, trying to ignore the burning in her throat that begged her to release the sobs and curses and tears...

"I would have told them your name."

The breath she took seemed to burn all the way through her body.

"I couldn't figure out another way. I didn't want them to find out about you, and then—" He swallowed, and stretched himself to his full height, feigning the composure of the Potions Master. "I had nightmares. I saw you tortured, mutilated. My life was over. It should have been over long ago. But you didn't have to die yet and—" He paused and shifted his long robes about his arms. "Sometimes one must make sacrifices in order to protect people one—cares about—"

Her swollen heart twisted again. Each word hit her: a knife and a caress.

Snape stiffened, meeting her eyes awkwardly.

Shaking, aching, she threw the vial to the floor, and the explosion of glass screeched through the air, smoke rising as purple liquid sizzled into the flagstone.

She stood for a moment, watching the purple drain and fizzle over the tiny, diamond shards of glass. Thoughts tumbled in her head, emotions jostled in her heart, demanding attention.

The images of Snape lying across the floor, still, halted in her mind, and his words hit closer to her heart.

She stomped on the glass violently, grinding it to dust beneath her feet.

_Sometimes one must make sacrifices in order to protect people—_

The remaining words formed a noose around her heart, squeezing it mercilessly.

_One cares about._

She met Snape's eyes once more, and he watched her, sad and distant.

Without another word, she dashed from the office, and, grabbing several vials in her arms, left Snape in the dungeons, staring down at the broken shards, alone.

Outside the rain had stopped, but thunder rolled loud on the horizon.


	10. The Untrodden Ways

_Chapter Nine:_ The Untrodden Ways

A thick mist had settled across the Hogwarts grounds, as if the storm clouds, heavy as her heart, could not help but sink low to the earth. It was dark, and somehow, the stars sparkling so clearly overhead hurt her eyes. 

She sighed, running her fingers around the several potions she'd brought with her. Dumbledore had taken some potions for distribution, and, obviously seeing her distress, had sent her up to Serpents Tower for lookout. 

_Try to relax, my dear. You've done a great service to so many._ His eyes had attempted a blue twinkle, but she could tell that even Dumbledore was beginning to lose hope…

She forced her eyes away from the obscenely twinkling stars and to her immediate surroundings, the gray stones and thick green tapestries of Serpents Tower. It wasn't her first time there; this had long been a popular late night spot among the Slytherins as it was just above their common room and easily accessible through any number of secret passages in the dungeons. The last time she'd climbed the uneven stairs of Serpents Tower had been with Draco. She'd been sure he had some snogging in mind, but, instead, they ended up talking about pranks he was planning to pull on Harry Potter. 

She smiled weakly. He had pulled down one of the tapestries from the wall, and offered her a cushioned seat beside him. She'd transfigured some of the empty torch brackets into pillows, and they'd lain there for hours, until the moon disappeared from the small rectangle window. 

_And where is Draco now?_ No doubt he'd be among that army she'd soon face. No doubt he'd hold her down as they ripped her flesh and tore open her heart…

Things had come a very long way. And yet, somehow, time had been so short…

_Try to relax, my dear. You've done a great service to so many._

She chewed on her lip. Some great service. In truth, she knew she might have at least given Hogwarts a fighting chance. But in the end, she was equally certain that it would take a miracle to save this place--to save the wizarding world.

Her heart beat against her chest bitterly. And why did it have to be her? Why did _she _have to be the one to have given her life to this "great service?" She swallowed a lump of guilt, realizing she would rather never have known about this—never have even come to Hogwarts—than be in the position she was now. 

She had given everything. She'd lost her friends at Zhong Mo Xue, her father, Draco, her friends from Slytherin, her freedom to choose her own future. Her freedom to be content and live and, maybe, if she was lucky, her chance at happiness. And what did she have to show for her sacrifice? A dark mark burned in her skin and an army of Death Eaters and dark creatures ready to stomp her underfoot.

She felt absent-mindedly at the cold metal ring still squeezing her finger. 

At least she knew Snape must be feeling the same—the same fears and shuddering regret. 

She swallowed again. 

_Snape_. Even without saying the name aloud, she felt her heart speed between anger and…something else. 

Something about that Belladonna Bloom. Something lodged like glass in the side of her mind.

Rationally, she understood. It had been the only reasonable option. Undoubtedly, Snape would have been tortured. And no one ever stood up under the torture. In truth, such a suicide would have been infinitely better for her—for everyone. A meeting with Snape could have been explained away, perhaps. After all, Voldemort hadn't even been sure enough to act straight on Nunberg's accusations. He'd tested her first. She could have made it out alive. Snape couldn't have given her away, and it would have been her word against a Ministry spy's. Rationally, of course, she understood.

But there was something more. She couldn't dismiss a life—_no Lili, be honest with yourself_—she couldn't dismiss _his_ life so coolly. Just the thought of it, of getting the owl from Dumbledore, maybe at work, maybe when she arrived home. Reading it over a steaming cauldron, a glass of brandy…

She drew in a sharp breath, refusing to acknowledge the feeling burning in her stomach, the feeling clamoring to be heard above all the others.

_This is ridiculous_. She forced her eyes back out the window, up at the stars shining like shards of shattered glass. This was the worst time in the world to be thinking about this. The worst possible time to be distracted by—

Her mind refused to think the word.

This was not the time to be acting like a silly school girl. Things were serious. Things were about to come to a final—

_Yes, _her mind insisted. Yes. Things were serious. That's why she had to face reality. 

_What's silly is to sit here right before you're about to die and still be too embarrassed or afraid to consider the fact that you're probably—_

She closed her eyes, as if, somehow, it would make the confession easier.

_That you have feelings for him._

Her mind clucked back at her.

_Ok…That you probably love him._

She opened her eyes again, and somehow, the stars seemed to burn white into her brain.

By Merlin, she'd never felt so…stupid. But thoughts came flooding back in her mind, each one bringing a fresh wave of certainty—of emotion.

The first time she'd seen him, in the Great Hall, face shadowed, dark eyes seeming so savage as he stared down at her. The way he'd stopped slightly when she'd told him her name._ "Perhaps we best stick to Ms. Lee."_

And the first time he'd touched her. His fingers light on her forearm. Sympathy, for her guilt over Hermione. 

The next time he'd touched her, embraced her on Malfoy Manor. And his fingers, wrapping around her arm, still sore and searing from the Mark.

The first time—tears. She'd seen him cry. 

As he'd told her about Lily Potter, those dark, cruel eyes—cried. 

Then she'd seen him again—after so long, framed in the door of Lang's office. The same lean figure that somehow seemed heavier than any other in the world...

And yet—it was that gaze—he'd look at her that night in the Café, and she'd felt something else. The poem dripping off his tongue, deep, languid, with all the warmth of a lamenting cello. _Your scent still lingers; your scent gone yet never-ending…_

His lips against her cheek. She couldn't banish the burning sensation from her skin. His breath so close to her face. And that night, at Malfoy Manor, his arms tangling around her, long hands on her hips…

Her mind slammed again on the picture of the Belladonna Bloom, set innocently on the top shelf of his personal stores. 

She pressed her fingers roughly on the bridge of her nose, massaging at the sadness and headache pounding in her skull. 

_Merlin's beard, Lili. You do love him. _

She felt a tear fall from her face and tap lightly on her robes.

She couldn't figure out how or when or why, but, shaking, she knew.

_Here on the edge of time, stupid, you can come to terms with things._

She removed her propping fingers and let her eyes find the stars again, refusing to blink away the stabs of white light.

_A perfectly lovely, tragic end to your story, Lili. You always did have a flare for hopeless melodrama…_

She ran the ring around her finger, swallowing the rising heat in an attempt to remain rational, focused.

_Love. Love._

She said the word aloud several times, but it didn't feel real. _But maybe, in times like these_, she thought, _nothing good ever seems real…_

There was a slight shifting behind her. She stiffened, tugging at her robes and wondering just how long he'd been there. Only he could sneak up like that-- stealth and swooping like an animal of the night.

"Dumbledore sent me here. Lookout."

She nodded, refusing to turn and so much as glance at him.

He didn't move.

"There were enough potions to equip a large amount of the staff and seventh years. We'll—be ready, I hope."

She nodded again, eyes bent ruthlessly out the window.

The silence that followed was filled occasionally with the rumble of far off thunder. Lili's heart shivered, and she pulled her robes closer, though, in truth, she was quite hot.

"Are you—okay?" The question was cautious, deliberately drained of emotional concern. 

She swallowed, and afraid to use any words of her own, grasped at the last poem she'd read from Li Bai. 

"Countless guards look out across moonlit borderlands, 

Thinking of home, their faces all grief. 

And somewhere, high in a tower tonight,

a restless woman cries out in half-sleep."

He murmured a weak understanding and sat down beside her, keeping a respectful distance. His eyes, too, seemed drawn to the bright stars and the misty, obscured landscape that clawed out desperately towards the horizon.

He reclined back on his hands, and she became suddenly aware of how near his fingers were to hers. The thick musk of spices tickled at her nose, and she thought she might somehow lose it. Part of her berated herself for such foolishness, the other part wished to bury herself in the scent, the warmth, twine her fingers in his…

Perhaps it was the moment. Perhaps it was all a product of fear and regret and the biting realization of being alone on the edge of death. But she wanted to find out. She wanted more time to find out. She glanced up at him.

_Too late, Lili. Just sit here, enjoy the silence, and when the sun rises…life is but a dream…_

A strangled sigh—the product of an aborted sob--escaped her, and at once she regretted it, as his eyes snapped back to her. She pressed her hands up against her mouth, trying to stopper anything else that might find its way out of her mouth.

"W—what?" Snape, caught off guard, tried laying a hand on her shoulder, then removed it, then laid it there again. 

His fingers seemed to light a fire under her skin, and she felt the tears take an even stronger hold, tumbling from her eyes against her will.

"What? What's wrong?" He removed his hand again. "It's okay. Just—stop crying." 

He sounded so legitimately desperate for her to stop, she, gritting her teeth for a moment and berating herself wildly, was finally to turn back the tide. 

"I—I think I'm just scared." 

It was true. She was more afraid than she'd ever been. She had faced darkness, but nothing like the void she spied marching towards her. 

"I thought I was, you know, ready," she said, hoarsely, keeping her eyes riveted on a particular star. "I was ready to die. In fact, there were times when I thought it might be nice. But now that I'm here—I don't know…" She paused, swallowing a fresh onslaught of sorrow threatening to tip her resolve. "I guess—there are things so worth living for—I can't imagine—"

She stopped and dug into her tongue fiercely. She could hear his breathing beside her, calm and even. Again she found herself in awe of his composure, and tried to force that mask back onto herself. 

_Breathe. Tell him. Just breathe. And tell him._

"We'll die here today." The words fell from her mind without her consent, and, having said them, the rest of her worries came, as if she no longer controlled the emotions pouring out of her. "And I'm not sure, what my life has been. What it was for. If I've lived, if I've tasted anything worth living for or if—if I've mattered—"

The star burned bright, and even when she shut her eyes, the tiny remnants of white and silver danced through the blackness. 

Her heart skipped as Snape lifted her hand, fingering the small, silver ring thoughtfully.

"Oh—" She said, sniffing, and taking her hand from his to wrench the ring off. "I'm sorry. I forgot to give this back—"

"You read the inscription?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, turning it to glance at the thin, carved words once more.

"'She dwelt among the untrodden ways'," he said, running his long fingers around the circle as he read it. "You know the poem?"

"No." She offered him the ring, but he turned his face away again.

"_She dwelt among the untrodden ways_

Beside the springs of Dove,

A maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to love:"

He paused to swallow before continuing.

_"A violet by a mossy stone_

Half hidden from the eye!

--Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky."

"She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and, oh, 

The difference to me!"

Each word slid into the next, her ears filled with the pounding of her over-wrung heart. Hanging on the echo of every dripping syllable, she squeezed the ring in her hand, a strange lightness—

"I—you—" 

She paused. Aloud she couldn't manage any words, but inside her mind, thoughts tumbled, clung, separated, clamored for consideration. 

_He was saying—that poem—was he saying…?_

"Why?" 

He turned and looked at her with an eyebrow arched, thin white lips pressed tight.

"Why—did you give me this ring?" She didn't have the strength to control her voice, and the words emerged more in disbelief than curiosity.

Black eyes set on hers but not steadily.

He spoke deliberately, pausing to construct each phrase. "I—didn't want anything to happen to it. --It's my most valuable possession and—when I was thinking about—who should have my things, I couldn't think of anyone I could trust with it—who would appreciate it—but you." 

"Severus?"

She didn't even realize she'd used his first name. She barely realized she was speaking.

"Back in your office—with the Belladonna Bloom—" She stopped. _No_. _Not like that_. She wouldn't do this roundabout. This wasn't the place or the time for Slytherin tactics. She had to say—her heart shook with more thunder—tell him—before they came…

"Severus, I've got to tell you something, and I don't think you're going to like it much."

His eyes suddenly felt heavier on her, his deep, smooth breaths threatening to raze through her like tempest winds. 

_Lili. Say it. If you don't, it will be over, and…it's silly to feel…you're going to die soon, does it matter?_ She squeezed the ring once more.

"Severus, I think I love you."

More silence. More rolling thunder. His eyes didn't sway from her, but his lips grew thinner, whiter.

More silence.

"Well, don't look at me as if you're going to take points from Slytherin," she sighed, sitting back, feeling as though, even under his heavy gaze, a solid weight had been struck away from her heart and lowered into her stomach. 

Somehow, the words having been said, it seemed less haunting, less tragic. She'd said it. She'd given it to him. That—was that. 

He cleared his throat, looking away from her. She thought for a moment he would speak, but, after several seconds of only silence, she resigned herself to his gentle refusal. 

She didn't try to keep the tears from her eyes, letting them drift back to the stars. "Well," she sighed, ragged, barely louder than the distant crashing thunder. 

She'd said it. She'd said it. She was beginning to feel too numb to register anything more.

She leaned back on her hands, trying to ignore the fact that a ribbon of lighter blue was creeping up from the horizon, refusing to be pushed back by the heavy, bright stars. "Probably the worst time to realize things, you know? When we're on the brink of war, and—well, it's impossible." 

To her surprise, Snape chuckled, low and deep. It was the sort of chuckle that seemed utterly misplaced, but the sort she couldn't help but feeling strangely grateful to hear…

His lips, white and drawn, were almost smiling. "Miss Lee…"

She swallowed, and, seeing his eyes spark somewhat, searched his face for something…something different…

Something was different.

He seemed to hesitate, watching her examine him for a split second before he spoke, his eyes following hers, dark.  

"Miss Lee: mountains are tall, rivers are long: is _anything_ impossible?"

He laid his long-fingered hand on hers as he sat back again, eyes twinkling with starlight.

Through her numb exhaustion—through the refusal of her mind to acknowledge the emotions gnawing at the root of her heart—she felt a swift warmth. It was one she had not felt for a long while, and she recognized it instantly as hope.  

"Severus?" she whispered.

"Mmm?" He seemed eager to drown his sight in the dark sky. 

"For the time, how about you call me Lili."

She didn't miss the small smirk that danced across his lips.

"Of course. Lili."

A thin line of red traced out the horizon.

They passed the rest of the night in silence.


	11. Bleeding Heart

A/N: Okay, a little pre-final chapters note. I went back as far as Chapter 8 (Belladonna Bloom) and did a thorough edit. If you're really ambitious, or you felt you were losing the story around those chapters, you can go back and restart from there. No plot points were changed, only writing/character thoughts. It might flow better if you started there, but, hey. I completely rewrote Chapters Ten and Eleven, and, again, no major plot changes. A few major structural changes, and a HUGE and I think effective change in character thoughts and responses. New chapters are Twelve and Thirteen. 

I will go ahead and say that I think these are a big improvement, but, of course, I'm still obsessing over them. At some point, however, you have to let it go. My beta-reader and my bf assure me that they're good, effective, etc., so…we'll see.

I'll leave you to decide. More notes at the end. Good luck!

****************************************

_Chapter Ten:_ Bleeding Heart

She stretched her hands out into the morning mists now thick like bleached cotton candy. Her heart thundered, mixing up all the sounds that echoed around her—indistinct growls, heavy breaths, distant screams.

Vague forms shifted beyond the wall of white, but she could make out nothing distinctly. Barely breathing and with small steps forward, she reached her fingers out to decipher what lay ahead.

The castle was behind her now, the only form mighty enough to pierce the roof of mist. She turned to glance at it again, reassured to find it still there, outlined against the dawning sky. She turned away, swallowing mouthfuls of thick, sweat-drenched fog. 

"Severus!"

She hadn't seen him since the battle began, and that had been several hours now. She hadn't seen anything yet—just blinding fog that sat bitter on her tongue and heavy on her back.

"Severus!"

Her hand struck something solid, and she groped it, swallowing another wisp of fog. It was cold, metal, tall. She looked up and, through the mist above her, could barely make out the round circle marking the top of the Quidditch goal post. 

There was another gray shape in the distance, silhouetted dim and ghostly. She moved forward, reaching out, trying not to trip over a deep nick in the dew-covered grass of the Quidditch pitch. Her heart continued its chaotic beat, and she whispered again, hoarse. "Severus?"

Her hands met another something. It was cold, yet this time, soft. It squished beneath her fingers, damp and downy. She looked up, and the mist seemed to clear, revealing a mound of faded colors looming above her.

She gasped, tumbling back.

_Corpses. _At least a hundred. All students, wearing their school scarves, eyes glassy, color faded from their stone-gray skin. Their lips were damp with dew, giving the illusion of ghostly life.

Atop the pile, one corpse stood out, stripped naked and caked with the dry brown of blood. From the mutilation of the genitals and the overwhelming smell of semen, she guessed the figure had been brutally raped as well as beaten. The heart, torn from a ragged hole in the limp figure's chest, had been stuffed, a black mass, between the corpse's blue-gray lips. 

She stared back into its eyes, green and glassy—her own.

 "Lili!"

Snape's long-fingered hand was closed over her shoulder, shaking her awake.

It took a moment to separate his dark, flashing eyes from the blackness of sleep. The wide, dead green of her own gaze faded into the small, dark glittering of his, and a deep relief shook her. She breathed in sharply, sitting up from her slumped position against the tapestried wall. "Severus." She didn't try to hide the relief in her voice.

He paused several beats, perhaps considering the strange, soft look in her face, before gesturing to the window stiffly. "They're coming. They'll be on the grounds any moment now. Just got the spark-signal from the gates."

Her moment of relief shattered, Lili realized that she was not on the other side of her nightmare but merely reliving it. She looked out the window to see the sun beginning to peek over the horizon, veiled in an eerie, thick fog. Through it, barely visible, a dark block slid forth, gliding towards the roots of the castle like an army of ghosts. 

She had to work hard to convince herself she was no longer dreaming.

Snape's eyes shifted over her heavily, and they both stood, taking as many potions as possible in hand and preparing to meet whatever might await them outside the castle gates.  

_And so it begins_. She still felt light, as if walking through the haziness of a dream.

Only the sound of Snape's boots clicking loud down the stairs, pounding as hard as her heart, convinced her this was unutterably real. 

"Attention, Hogwartssss."

The clicking stopped, the hissing words making a throat of the tall, cold tower. The entire castle froze, under the spell of that voice that boomed through the stairwell, clashing violently up the spiraling stone.

"The time of Lord Voldemort has begun anew."

Snape lifted his eyes as if, somehow, the voice fell like a god's from above.

"As you're no doubt aware, my forces outmuch your puny numbers at least four to one: --Lord Voldemort _will_ triumph…" She felt the voice rather than heard it, each word pressing down like a boot on her neck.

"Send out Dumbledore and the two traitors and no one else need be harmed. If you do not, I will destroy Hogwartsss and all those who resissst..."

The stairwell fell silent. A hundred dead and glassy eyes stared out at her from another world. 

She suddenly wondered if she could manage to stand without the solid stone.

"Come on. We've got to find Dumbledore." The clicking resumed, harsh, resolute staccato.

Snape was dashing now, Lili pushing to stay at his heels. She tried to remember the words spoken before her nightmare, groping for some small shred of hope to calm the tossing in her chest. Had he said he loved her too? She strained to remember, fumbling across the uneven stone steps that led down the to entrance hall. 

_She dwelt among the untrodden ways_. And he'd laid his hands on hers…

There'd been stars. And he'd smiled. _Is anything impossible…_

She fumbled down the uneven steps into the entrance hall, squeezing the cool metal of the ring and chanting those words to herself, a desperate mantra. _Shan gao shui chang…_

"Albus, you can't for a second believe—"

Professors McGonagall, Lupin and Trelawney were all circled about Dumbledore, watching the old man intently. Lupin's thin arms gathered in front of him, his sunken eyes flashing. 

Dumbledore lifted a hand, and Lupin was quiet. He turned to look at Snape and Lili with still, blue eyes. "Severus. Miss Lee."

Breathing heavily, Snape stepped forward. "Headmaster, we're ready."

Lili's blood froze, and a lick of fear whipped up from her carefully constructed calm. He meant to walk out, alone, and give himself up. And what was more, he assumed she was ready to do the same. _Is he crazy?_

He looked, however, anything but crazy. His eyes were calm, his face so utterly composed, Lili was reminded briefly of the stony mask he wore in his classes. She tried to wrap herself in the thick skin she'd worn so often over the last two years—the one he had helped her fashion. But somehow, trembling, it no longer fit; it could no longer cover the genuine fear shaking her every breath.

"I'm afraid you two will not be joining me." 

Snape sunk back slightly, brow lined. "Headmaster, we m—"

"No, Severus." His voice, though rasping, stopped Snape's words in midair. "I will be going out _alone_. Hogwarts needs your protection." His gaze sunk to Lili. "Both of you."

"_You_ shouldn't even be going! Without you, Albus, Hogwarts is lost!"

Dumbledore's warm smile seemed weighed down with sorrow. "My dear Minerva. Hogwarts will never be lost as long as there are those who would give their lives for good: not today, not tomorrow." He clapped Severus lightly on the shoulder and turned, placing a withered hand on the door knob. Lili expected Snape to say something, to try and stop him, but Snape merely remained silent, breaths quiet and deep.

The eerie morning light dripped in through the open door, and, in it, Dumbledore suddenly seemed very old and very frail.

He turned and looked at them all with a lined smile. 

"Albus, please take something. A potion, a wand, anything." Lupin held out one of his exploding elixirs desperately.

Dumbledore shook his head and turned away again, moving slowly into the morning air. "No, Remus. A brave, loving heart is the only truly powerful weapon in this war…" 

They followed him out the doors, watching him walk slowly away, disappearing, at last, behind a curtain of fog.

In the silence, only crickets screeched, loud and grating. 

The morning seemed to have swallowed him up. Snape's breathing grew more shallow, and McGonagall kept squinting, trying to see through the white veil.

Lili swallowed a mouthful of the thick air, and her stomach turned, remembering her dream. 

"Professor Trelawney?" she whispered, afraid to speak too loudly and shatter the delicate silence.

The thin woman's head barely turned.

"Do dreams mean anything…important?" She could see the mound of young corpses on the Quidditch field, gray-skinned, still, as if the battle was already lost.

"Of course they do." Trelawney, too, whispered, watery gaze riveted on the distant fog. "They are the window to the psychic parts of the soul. They can tell us our fears, our passions, our future…"

Lili shut her eyes, swallowing hard.

"Why? Have you…seen something?"

But Lili didn't respond. Couldn't. The whispers merely drifted away, absorbing into the gray air. 

And suddenly silence split at the seams, rent by a high, cruel laugh. The screech both snaked beneath her skin and echoed up to the sky, rolling with the distant thunder. 

Snape was holding his breath, and Lili could feel his almost undetectable trembling beside her.

"Hogwartsss….fools, fools. I told you Dumbledore _and_ the two traitors…" 

  
It was the same horrible voice, shaking the very foundations of the castle. Lili swallowed and glanced around her, afraid the stones might come tumbling down. She was surprised to see a small crowd now gathered around the doors and in the entrance hall, mostly students, some crying, some looking too dumbstruck for tears.

"Some of you were foolish enough to think that hooked-nose old Muggle-lover could stand against me, my army, my _power_." 

Another booming, cruel cackle. 

"Well, let Lord Voldemort's might be revealed today. Dumbledore is dead!"

No sooner had the words sunk into her numbed mind, than something came flying through the air, landing, heavy and limp at their feet.

McGongall's hand shot up to cover her gasp. Trelawney let out a fierce, heart-rending cry. 

Lili could hear Snape's dry swallow as he stepped forward and bent down, shakily, on one knee.

The Headmaster's blue eyes stared, unblinking, back at them. The crickets' screeching suddenly seemed to become wails of sorrow.

Lupin took Dumbledore's limp wrist in his hand, eyes flitting back and forth frantically. 

"Albus…" Snape whispered, examining the Headmaster's body carefully for any signs of struggle. There were none. "Albus…"

Lupin set Dumbledore's heavy hand on the grass. They stared at if for what seemed a creaking eternity as if expecting some magic to force life back into the gnarled, stiff digits. 

It was a long moment before Lupin managed to stand. "He's—dead."

The words elicited a hundred whispers and sobs from the students behind her. Lili trembled, staring into the stiff, open blue eyes, wondering how…

"He—he can't be," she mumbled, stepping behind Snape and looking down at the still, dead body of her one-time Headmaster—

"He can't be dead. They said—they said he was the only one—that could—" She crushed the remaining words between her teeth.

And the next thing she knew, Snape's arm was around her, his fingers touching her hair lightly, body leaning numb against her. His eyes, like hers, welled with a distant acknowledgment of sorrow, but there seemed to be no room in the world for tears. 

If anyone was surprised or scandalized to see this embrace, she didn't care to notice. She had grown suddenly very tired and very, very unwilling to be anywhere but there, leaning against Snape's gaunt form.

She laid her face against the folds of his heavy cloaks, feeling him warm under her. She could hear the beating of his heart ragged in her ear. 

_Without you, Albus, Hogwarts is lost…_

She dared another glance down at Dumbledore's composed, dead eyes.

_It's over. Hogwarts _is_ lost…_

Snape's arm squeezed tighter around her, and she could hear emotion stifled in his stomach, pushed down into a churning sea just like hers. 

"I trussst you all now realize the futility of resisting my power."

Lili could barely lift her head to listen to the booming voice resume. 

"I am coming to get the two traitors and any who ssstand in the way of myself or my army will be killed." He let the words stab through the air a moment, allowing his voice to roll through the fog like a rush of punching wind. "Any ssstudents who rise up and join my forces, will be spared. And any ssstudent that brings me the two spiesss, Severus Snape and Elizabeth Lee, will be rewarded with glory beyond his wildest dreams…"

Lili felt Snape's grip on her loosen, his face going very white. 

She knew the fear that must be gripping him. Plenty of students at Hogwarts might prove more than willing to turn Snape over: tortured Hufflepuffs, persecuted Gryffindors, even some politically savvy Slytherins. 

Both of them turned to meet the eyes of the students assembled behind them, nervous and questioning.

"Those who do not aid us will die. None will be spared the pain, the agony…"

Not a single person stirred. Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Slytherin—all remained rooted in place.

_Finally, they know..._

She squeezed Snape's arm, feeling him exhale heavily.

Finally they knew what Snape had never allowed them, even for a moment, to suspect. They knew what kind of a man their greasy, cruel Potions Master was, and, more importantly, they knew what he had risked for them. 

Several Gryffindor prefects met Snape's eyes, examined him closely, then nodded, resolute, admiring. 

She met those eyes, and the stone in her heart crumbled. Blood rushed hot through her skin, and, as she felt her muscles loosen in relief, she knew there was still hope. 

These small nods seemed, for a long moment, to mute the booming, god-like voice that insisted on their doom. Something had changed.

For the first time in a very long while, she felt strong. She was on the right side. Everyone knew now. She wasn't the Queen of Slytherin, the Death Eater. The veil lifted, and she was herself again, the real Lili who had so long been hidden away, starved almost till death. 

But she was still alive, and so was Snape. 

And, suddenly, that felt worth fighting for.

"Alright, everyone, we don't have any time to spare. Dumbledore stalled them for a while, but our reinforcements will still take a while coming." Lupin's voice struck her back from her thoughts, strong for his thin, pale frame. He cut through the mass of students, asking for volunteers to go out with him.

Every student raised their hand. Lili's heart swelled anew to see every Slytherin student eager to fight. 

"We'll advance in a tight ring away from the castle," Lupin said, handing out several of his potions. "Remember, we want to keep them away as long as possible. When the reinforcements from the Ministry arrive, they'll attack and we'll have their army trapped between us."

Groups of students, wide-eyed and shaking, began to scatter, disappearing into the fog. Though the teachers who led them stepped forward like soldiers, their eyes betrayed their doubts.

Lili pulled her wand from her robes, squeezing it. Her palms had sweat profusely, and the wood felt smooth against her heated fingers. 

"Lili." 

She turned. Snape's eyes were glowing with the same strength she had found. It made him seem, for a deep, yawning moment, incredibly beautiful. 

"Here," he whispered, taking her hand and laying something small and cold in it.

She opened her palm to see a small, heart-shaped crystal. 

"It's called a Bleeding Heart," he explained, pulling an identical object from the inside breast pocket of his robes. "It's a less conspicuous way of calling for help than red sparks. If you're in trouble, just move the crystal here." He moved the object over his chest as he said it, and both crystals began to glow a vivid, blood red. "The beating of your heart will make both our crystals glow, and I'll find you as quickly as I can."

She nodded, placing the Bleeding Heart in her breast pocket and refusing the grim thoughts rising to the surface of her mind. "And I'll find you." 

The rest of the teachers and students had scattered, and Lili knew, heart aching, what she had to do. 

She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to wrap up in his arms again and tell him how scared she was…

But his eyes glowed back at her, reminding her of the stakes.

This was the crossroads. If they were to try this love, it had to be a love of each other, not some concoction of masks and marks. If they were to be in love, they had to earn their freedom from this shadow: whether here or in the next world.

"Lili," his voice rasped, replacing his own bleeding heart and grasping her eyes with his. "If we survive…"

She smiled. It was a surreal feeling to smile, but even the heavy fog couldn't dampen his words. 

_If we survive…_

Is anything impossible?

Riveted on that thought—that small shred of unguaranteed hope—she found the strength to turn, grip her wand tighter, and walk on into the fog. 

Snape's thin figure disappeared behind her.

Disappeared.

_Perhaps forever…_

She swallowed, taking several deep breaths and holding her wand out before her. 

_No. No. You heard what Dumbledore said…_

_Hogwarts will never be lost as long as there are those who will give their lives for good: not today, not tomorrow…_

The thought rose, morose and unbidden. Dumbledore, for all his goodness, was lying dead in the dew.

_Dead in the dew._

It was a fate she would, more than likely share. 

But for once, it would be her decision. For once, she would decide her own fate.

She didn't have much more time to think, her ears suddenly reverberating with a throaty, bestial growl.

It was behind her, and she turned, searching for the source. Nothing but the sound and the thick white fog seemed to pursue her, and she tried shooting several petrifying charms into the distance behind her. 

She could hear heavy steps now, growl fiercer. Though she could see nothing through the ghostly fog, the tramping of grass seemed almost on her heels. 

Heart beginning to shiver, veins tingling with the first gasps of adrenaline, she pushed her feet into a run.

The thick mist made running dangerous, and she waved her arms in front of her, trying to get some idea of where she could be. A tree smacked against her outstretched hand, and she drew it in, black blood trickling and pooling in the crook of her elbow, framing the vivid, burning Dark Mark. 

She tried to look behind herself, still running, yet saw nothing but endless white, its growl pursuing her. She attempted several more curses over her shoulder, but her pursuer continued unabated, splashing in pools of rain.

Another tree, this time shooting its root at her ankle, told her she must be on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. She slowed, trying to avoid the thickening brush, falling, stumbling, all the time trying any number of spells to immobilize—or at the least reveal—whoever or whatever was chasing her.

The shadowy trees suddenly gave way to a clearing, and Lili was sure she could hear the beating of her adrenaline-gorged heart echo through the hollow. The sound of crashing brush surrounded her, and suddenly she was unsure whether the growling was still behind her or--

From somewhere to her left, a giant, gray werewolf slammed her body into the ground with a thud and a snap.

_My wand. Oh God. My wand._

But, just past the werewolf's matted fur, she could see her wand, snapped completely in two.

The wolf's thick haunches held her legs to the wet earth, his claws digging into the thin skin of her arms.

_Concentrate, Lili. Bumozhang. Concentrate._

But her heart fluttered too fiercely, and, suddenly, a horrible pain razed through her left shoulder, the beast's solid teeth piercing her flesh and ripping, violently, in a surge of blood and torn cloth. 

She tried to move the Bleeding Heart to her chest but was unsure of her grip through the flames of pain wringing her free left arm. 

"Severus!" She gasped, trying to free her right arm or her legs. The animal's weight held her firmly to the earth. 

Teeth scratched into her bone, and blackness began to envelop her eyes. 

  
"Sev—er—us—" She gurgled, feeling a thick copper erupt in her mouth. She coughed, pain searing, body sodden with sweat, mist and blood. 

_It's over. Dead in the dew. _

"Sev—er—"

Blackness began to dissolve the white fog. She blinked between the pain and the dark. Black and white danced around her, mingling into gray. She made one final attempt to move the Bleeding Heart. She could no longer feel her left arm to assure herself of success.

And suddenly the black and white world lit up with a blast of green light, and the huge beast fell to her side, limp.

For a moment, she could barely comprehend it, but, slowly, trembling, she took another full breath, swallowing a bitter mouthful of blood. 

One breath. Then another. Another.

She watched the limp figure for several seconds, sure it was dead before managing, shakily, to prop her good arm under herself.

She blinked away the swooning blackness tearing at her, willing her eyes to focus on the figure looming just behind a sheet of fog. 

"Severus?"

Through the silence now as suffocating as the white fog, she heard the sharp intake of breath and the loose rustling of thick, velvet robes. "No."

She wiped the sweat and tears from her eyes. Her throat went dry.

"Draco?"

He was standing several feet away, wand pointed straight between her eyes. She tried to stand but fumbled and fell back on her lame left arm. She swallowed, and tried again, making it too her knees. 

She looked up the length of Draco's wand.

"You—you killed the werewolf."

Watching her through steel-gray eyes, Draco didn't respond. She barely recognized him, white morning fog surrounding him like a shroud. 

Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself up again, rising shakily to her feet, left arm cradled loosely in her right. "Thank you."

A flash flicked through those steel eyes, and Draco struck out, fast and violent as a serpent. "Don't thank me, traitor," he spat, wrenching her left arm behind her brutally. "Don't thank me."

Pain cleaved her left side, and the blackness once more threatened.

"I have every intention of taking you to the Dark Lord," he said, grinding the tip of his wand into her back and moving his mouth next to her ear so she could feel every word he spoke. "He has something very special planned for you…"

Lili's nightmare clawed through her mind, and she could see herself, atop a gray heap in the center of the Quidditch pitch, heart stuffed, bleeding, in her mouth. 

She swallowed another mouthful of coppery blood.

_Dead in the dew._

In the end, perhaps, that was her fate.

In her breast pocket, the Bleeding Heart flashed a deep, blood red. 


	12. The Dragon and the Dark Lord

_Chapter Eleven: _The Dragon and the Dark Lord

She pressed her eyes tight shut, trying to flush the sting of tears, sweat and fog. Swallowed blood churned in her stomach, and, for the first time in two years, she felt as though she would vomit from fear and roiling adrenaline.

"Draco," she gasped as he wrung her arm particularly hard.

His warm grasp reminded her of the last time he'd held her, in the guttering chaos of the ballroom, dancing, spinning. The world spun again now, but in waves of black and white.

He breathed in sharply, and she understood. Her voice hurt him. Pricked him. He pushed her forward. "Move!"

Weak and dizzy, she crashed to the earth, pain shooting up her torn and bloodied arm. 

_He must have seen the Heart by now. He must be coming. Must be._

She attempted a raw whisper but before she could say anything, she was doubled over, coughing up thick, black blood, wretching violently.

Her mind no longer registered the shadows shifting in the distance, the shade of Draco heavy across her back, the fog thick like cotton in her mouth. Her guts flowed out of her, and with them, all her strength to fight. Eyes close to the earth, she struggled to keep breathing, longed to give in to the encroaching, hypnotic darkness.

The world spun. She had felt this wretching sickness before, her face over the fire, hot, afraid, a circle of shades surrounding her, watching like black statues. That had been the beginning. This, it seemed, was the end.

Now only the faint silhouette of trees encircled her, observing as impassive and silent as those shrouded sentinels.

She swallowed a mouthful of fog before heaving once more. Sweat and dew dripped down the tip of her nose, and she struggled to snatch back some of her former strength. She couldn't just give in, not so easily.

_He's coming, Lili. He's trying to find you. Scream. Scream._

Shaking, she drew her head up as far as she could and screamed. 

Draco's hand clapped over her mouth immediately. "Shut up! Shut up or I'll help you shut up--and it won't be painless." But he couldn't maintain his hold on her, her mouth, and his wand, and, as soon as he moved his fingers, she tried again.

She didn't manage more than a gurgling before her stomach revolted once more, spasming painfully. She shuddered, trying to breathe.

"There. Now that ought to teach you to be quiet." He tried again to move her forward but she had become lead weight.  

_If you're going to take me, it won't be easy. You'll have to curse me. You'll have to hit me. You'll have to prove that you can do this…_ She opened her dry lips, only to feel the fog still clogging her mouth. 

"Come on!" He shoved at her again, and she fell forward again. He swore.

"Move! Or I'll curse you, I swear!" 

Her back was still to him, and she was glad. She had no desire to see that face. She knew every line, every shadow of the sneer. It was Lucius Malfoy's, eyes like glass and, behind them, a soulless void. 

_For all your hopes that he would be different…_

She shut her eyes, wondering if she'd have the strength to open them again. "Then go ahead and curse me. You wouldn't have saved me if you—wanted me dead that badly—"

"I saved you because the Dark Lord wanted you _alive_. I saved you so I could take you back to him and gain favor," he hissed, grasping her arm roughly, dragging her up from the soft, wet earth. Despite herself, she whimpered as he moved his lips once more to her ear, breath hot. "After this battle, my family will be the most powerful in the world. And I'm not going to jeopardize that power for some ugly little traitor like you."

He kissed her lightly on the ear, then pushed her forward again. 

She stumbled but this time remained upright. It was hardly possible to grasp what he'd said, and, in her struggling heart, she refused to hear it. Those were the words of his father. That wasn't Draco. It couldn't be. Not the Draco who'd laid beside her in Serpent's Tower, talking and watching the moon sink out of the sky. This was Draco the scared, the frantic—the Draco she'd seen so happy to be called to a Death Eater meeting. This was his father's Draco and the one she'd always feared would inherit his heart in the end.

"Power?" Her voice shook, but she forced it to steady. "What power? Things will be just as they are, Draco; following every order, every decree of your father." 

She expected another blow or shove, but nothing came.

"It will be just the same. No freedom, no power. Lucius will control you, he and the Dark Lord." Blood trickled into her stomach, burning like brandy. "And the Dark Lord doesn't share power—only responsibility and pain." Her throat constricted, and for a desperate moment, the sorrow stopped all breath. "_Pain_."

And the pain came rushing back to her, like racing horses trampling her heart. That night, locked in the dark rooms of Malfoy Manor, skin burning: her freedom had collapsed, her heart dried to dust. She could only cling at the mockery of life. Suddenly, it didn't seem like much to lose.

_But Severus. Maybe. _Maybe one blessing in a long list of the pains the Dark Lord had brought her…

Trying to hope that Snape was on his way, she drew all her strength in a long breath and turned to meet Draco's face.

The face she met was not Lucius Malfoy's. The anger traced in the lines of his brow, the flash in his icy eyes was not deep, cold malice but an anger shallow and hot, still malleable on the anvil. It spoke to her clearly, explaining every cruel word. She had been on his side, and now, she had turned, abandoned him to all the forces that threatened to destroy him, just as they had rent her heart in two. The Death Eater arose because she, the last true friend of the real Draco, had turned out a traitor. 

She had met the real Draco in her first few days at Hogwarts. He had saved her from herself. He sat and petted Artibius in the Slytherin common room. Under the Quidditch post, he'd asked her to the Yule Ball, pale eyes draped in winter shadows. His gentle kiss, a farewell, a resignation. His hands on her bare shoulders, his hands in hers as they danced. 

_No. _She refused to believe that he would be the one. Anyone but him. Any of the others could carry her off, they could tear her, torture her, rape her, kill her.  But it couldn't be him. 

She saw him watching her through the glass of his eyes, but it was not the soulless void of his father beyond. He seethed and writhed, and she wished, suddenly, that he'd never happened upon her--that she'd died in the jaws of the werewolf, and she'd never had to stand and look at him across the distance of their tragic lives.

"Draco, you can make a choice now. Please. You can let me go if it's what you want. You have that choice. Right here, right now, there's no one to stop you. It's your choice." She watched him, wondering, as she always had, what he would choose when, at last, life forked irrevocably.

The seething behind his eyes seemed to swell. He pushed his wand sharply into the base of her neck.

"A choice?" he mocked, nostrils flaring. "I have a choice?" He set his jaw strong for a long while, trying to steady himself.  "No, Lili. _You_ had a choice. I warned you not to get involved with Snape. I knew you couldn't be a traitor. I knew it. I knew who you were, what you were. I knew you were loyal. And then my father gave you a chance tonight, a chance to prove yourself. I knew you'd prove me right. I knew you wouldn't betray everything you'd told me, everything you'd been." He swallowed, and, for a moment, his glassy eyes shook faintly, white fog gleaming off them like the shadow of tears. "But _you_ made this choice, Lili. Not me. You made this choice when you apparated off the Manor, when you betrayed us all. Your choice, not mine."

"What choice did I have?" she could barely whisper, meeting his eyes and seeing there not hate but the soft ache of pain. Her heart squeezed, as if he held it between his gritted teeth. She wanted to grab him, to run away with him and explain everything. To tear open her heart and show him all the pulls and tugs, the excruciating weaknesses. And the love. The love she had for him. And the love she had for Severus. 

_Severus_. He hadn't come--and likely wouldn't. Perhaps he was wounded, perhaps dead. Perhaps he was groping through the fog trying to find her. 

In the flash of a second she considered the "choice" she'd made. The choice to abandon her playing at Death Eater games to warn them—to be with him. She imagined marching on the castle, meeting him on the field. She might have lived. She might have lived a life of the power Draco sought. 

But-- the flush of lightness as he set his fingers on hers. His tiny upturned smile. His arms entangling her in his robes, against his solid warmth.

She wouldn't have traded it for all the world. For all the power and the politics and the peace in the world. 

"What choice did I have?" Her voice was suddenly strong and gentle, wanting to call him out with her eyes. For a quick, unblinking moment, she saw a shudder of uncertainty in that sea of steel. "What wouldn't you do to save Dia? What wouldn't you do to see her one last time?"__

The air smelled heavily of sweat. They watched each other for a long while, gaze for gaze.

No, it wasn't Lucius Malfoy's face. It was Draco's. She'd always felt something more in his gaze, and she felt it again now, almost dead, smothered by all he'd inherited from life. He was watching her, and she knew he was remembering too. The Yule Ball, she tried to remind him with her eyes. Flying around the Manor, seeing who could get the closest to the treetops without making a leaf fall. It was impossible to forget. 

It was also impossible to forget, however, that his wand was still pressed lightly against her throat, his eyes still fixed on her as cold and harsh as the pale fog.

 "Lili—You know—I'm taking you. I can't—"

Her stomach lurched as, in her breast pocket, the Bleeding Heart began to shake violently. 

Snape came crashing through the fog, wand drawn.

"Severus! Don't!"

But Draco had jerked her to him, wand pressed at her neck with bruising, trembling ferocity. 

The world lurched into stillness again, and the two wizards stared at one another, both unblinking, both seething.

"If you curse me, I'll take her with me," Draco snapped, taking a step back and pulling her along.

"Severus. It's okay. Don't hurt him."

Snape took a step forward to match theirs, and she noticed a long, thick gash across his cheek. She tried to reach out towards him, but Draco pinned her arm back against her side.

"I'm okay. It was just a branch." His eyes remained, unwavering, on Draco's.

"Give me your wand, Professor."

Snape made no attempt to drop his wand. "Let her go."

It was a tone she'd never heard from him before. It was the same--low, silk--but the threat was sharper. It shook her heart with fear, and she knew Draco felt it too, his grip on her arm quivering.

"I _will_ kill her. Give me the wand."

A long silence. In the distance, she could hear the battle raging. Screams, crashing. She wondered vaguely about the castle, about the reinforcements, about the students. For several moments, she had forgotten the world crumbling to dust around them, the crackle and snapping of twigs exploding continuously like artillery shells.

The muted sounds of battle were broken by a heavy clunk on the ground.

Snape's wand lay still against the damp, black earth.

"Alright, Draco," he said, gliding forward, wandless, eyes sliding alternately over Draco's wand and her face. "Take me. I'll go with you to the Dark Lord. I'm the one he really wants anyway. And, in return, you let her go. No one will know, and you'll still get the honor of bringing in a traitor." 

"No," she objected and with such force that both Snape and Draco seemed taken aback. Snape's black eyes turned on her, and he looked suddenly betrayed. 

She understood his intentions. By now, she wasn't even surprised by the proposed sacrifice. But, she thought resolutely, she refused to fight free from the shadow and then, in the end, lose the one thing she knew made all the fighting worthwhile.

 "I won't let you do that, Severus. Either both or none. I won't – I couldn't run knowing—what you would have to—suffer--"

"Come on, Draco," Snape interrupted, trying to take Draco back, drowning her quiet, rasping voice in his. His eyes met the young wizard's, steady, his face suddenly fiercely passionate, hypnotizing. "We know the politics. Take me. Turn her out. I'll tell them how you caught me trying to run. It will mean a good deal for you…"

Lili's heart quivered, cracking from pounding blood. Draco was trembling now, his wand knocking against her collarbone, his breaths short, and uneven.

"Favor."

He was fighting with something, and she could feel it in the shivering heat of his grip. She could hear his dry swallowing, and knew he was approaching the decision he'd been trying to avoid. His head turned from Snape, as if he wanted to examine both roads before choosing. 

"Power…" Snape hissed at him, soft, low.

She closed her eyes, her body shaking beside his. There was a stop in the sounds of the world, and she could feel, as the earth seemed to breathe in, that it was time. Draco had to make the decision.

His hot arms released her and pushed her away, tumbling forward into Snape's arms. 

No one moved.

Draco made no move at all. He merely stared back at Snape, gray eyes burning, vividly reflecting the white fog. It took her only a  moment's glance to know which Draco had won the battle.

"I don't want that power," he mumbled, stooping for a moment to recover Snape's wand and offer it back. 

He'd made the choice. _He made the choice she hadn't dared to hope for...…_

Shock shot through the Potion Master's face, and Lili felt her heart shivering in a sea of pounding heat. 

"You'll want to head west," he continued, smoothing at his robes and tucking his wand away, trying to reassure them and ignore the look of awe on Snape's face. "It's the weakest point in the line. After that—" He sighed. "Who knows."

Lili could no longer hold in the tears, burning in her stomach exploding up her body, and her sobbing caused both men to turn suddenly. She couldn't tell—nor did she care to—why she was crying. Her heart seemed to be bursting with so many different emotions, she felt as though at any moment, she might tip from sobs to laughter. 

_Draco had chosen_. She had asked for a miracle, and this, she understood, was it. The Draco she saw was the same as the Snape she'd seen—a man, freed of his shackles, revealed. Surprised, overjoyed, relieved, she threw her arms about his neck, wetting his ghostly skin with her tears.

For a short second, she felt his hand tapping, light on her back, then he pushed her away, face composed, eyes cool. 

"Both of you, go. Leave. Before I change my mind." 

They were harsh words but edged with the tight tremble of tears stopped in his throat. 

She met his gray eyes, and, all at once, she didn't think she could run. Not five minutes before, it was all she'd wanted. Now, she remembered what he'd done for her, three years ago, when she'd been lost. 

_And again he saves you, Lili. How can you run and leave him to this, victory or none?_

"Draco, come with us. Please." 

He looked back at her with a wan smile, and she knew that even Draco's true self couldn't take that last step. "No, Lili. I don't want to go. But you should. And you should hurry. Everyone is looking for you…"

She watched him close, heart thudding slowly like a bass drum against her stomach. The floating shadows in his eyes were the same she'd seen three years earlier, when he'd kissed her goodbye. He would let them go, but he knew. He knew he was sunk into the morass and wasn't trying, as she was, to struggle free. 

_Goodbye, Draco. Goodbye._

She wiped at her cheeks, glancing over at Snape questioningly. He nodded, and she took his long, cool hand, heading for the west. The fog lay before them, a void of white.

"Don't move!"

Lili wrenched Snape's hand, trying to break into a run, but he stood still, rooted in place. His black eyes narrowed as only one voice in the entire world could make them. It echoed again as she jerked harder, trying to pull him away.

"Don't move, any of you!"

With a jolt, Lili recognized it. Deeper, more ragged, but familiar.

She and Snape turned to see the tall, tousle-haired wizard standing thin against the fog, Draco pulled tight and helpless.

"Potter." Snape took a step forward, gripping his wand more tightly.

The young man looked haggard, his glasses cracked down the left lens, but the fierce spark in his green eyes and the smooth strength in his voice reminded her of their partnership in potions—it seemed ages in the past. She glanced to Draco, his pale eyes wide with rage, his muscles straining against his captor.

Lili met Harry's cracked gaze. "Potter—Harry—let him go. He was willing to do the same for us."

Harry's eyes drifted to Snape but returned quickly to Lili, finding her gaze less threatening. "I was told that you two were on our side. I didn't expect to find you making deals with your old Death Eater friends on the battlefield."

A growl shook in Snape's throat, but Lili squeezed his hand for silence. It wouldn't do either of them any good to go cursing the Ministry's star Auror. 

"It wasn't a deal. He let us go out of friendship. We should be willing to do the same."

Harry's face contracted the way Olivia's did when Lili said the Dark Lord's name. His grip on Draco tightened, and Draco snarled, trying to wrench himself free. 

"Friendship? You expect me to believe, after seven years of this bastard's insults—cruelty—smarmy prejudice—that he just shook your hands and let you go out of_friendship_?" He chuckled derisively. "I can think of a likelier explanation, and I'll be sure and pass it on during your trials." 

Draco's resistance slowed, and, eventually, the pale wizard gave up his struggle. Lili searched his face, looking for some explanation of this halt, but his eyes merely looked dead, resigned.

"You're an even bigger fool than I thought, Potter," Snape hissed, stepping forward and causing Harry to shuffle back. "You can't stop to think that maybe, just maybe, people can _change_? You really are as simple-minded as your buffoon of a father. You had better be willing to give people a second chance, Potter, or Fate may be reluctant to offer you one."

Harry's eyes widened and, apparently taking this as a threat, he flicked his wand so fast, neither Lili nor Snape had a chance to react. Snape's wand lifted from his hand, flying across to the young wizard's waiting grasp. Snape cursed.

Harry's hands wrestled through Draco's robe, pulling his wand from its folds. "I'll give this bastard more mercy than I could have expected," he spat, pushing Draco to the ground and grinding his foot into the small of his captive's back. "More mercy than my parents got. I'll bind him and take him to be held. He should be glad I don't kill him."

Draco's gray eyes looked up at her from the dirt so pale and pained she wondered if this was true.

Harry extended his wand and pointed it, stiff, at the back of Draco's head.

Draco squeezed his eyes closed, betraying a tear.

His words came to her, echoing over the sound of her taut muscles. _I knew who you were, what you were. I knew you were loyal._

And now she knew what he was—and she'd be sure Potter knew it too.

Both she and Snape leapt forward at once, swiping for the wand, but it jumped out of their grasp. In fact, it jumped out of Harry's hand. 

Snape's wand jumped next. Then Draco's. Both whizzed through the air, disappearing into the fog behind them. 

At first the white seemed as dead and impassive as ever, the sound of several explosions the only movement sifting through the wall of mist. But now it had come alive, ghostly shifting crackling over the distant rumble of battle. The silence began to tear, the weight of a thin, serpentine form slithering through the dewy air, parting the gray like a gossamer curtain. She felt it slice through the walls of her frail heart. 

The pain in her arm returned to her, and again her stomach revolted.

Voldemort stood tall, looking down at Harry, cackling as the young wizard cradled his head desperately.

She didn't need to see them to know that the wands were gone—snapped.

Snape grabbed at her hand, and she thought she would scream. The cold, hard metal of the ring pressing on her palm seemed to burn. Her knees were weak, and her feet melted into the damp dirt. When the Dark Lord's eyes met hers, she felt the darkness gripping up her again.

The thin, veined flesh of his face stretched into a smile. 

"Miss Lee, Severus-- how very good to see you—_alive_." His red eyes turned, flaming, to Harry. "And in such _pleasant _company."

In the distance, Lili heard an explosion, as the Astronomy Tower crashed to the earth. The world was tumbling around her, and his shadow pressed down, crushing her hope.

Her cheeks were burning, her body's pain frantically working to pull her away into the bliss of unconciousness.

For all the good in Draco's heart—for all that had happened—

A miracle crushed by an Auror and a Dark Lord.

_Dead in the dew._

Her skin stung with beating blood, and she barely felt Voldemort's spidery hand as it gripped her face, pulling her eyes up to his. He devoured her fear.

"Now we can settle this. Once and for all." 

The thin line of Voldemort's wand traced around the base of her neck, raising painful goose flesh. 

All her freedom, her wretched life, her hope, she laid to the ground, dead in the dew.

His words returned to her from a world that seemed long past, and she knew it was time to stop fighting.

_Hope, Miss Lee, is a fool's drug._

She squeezed Snape's hand, warm and trembling, and shut her eyes, ready for shaking white of pain.


	13. Dying Ashes

_Chapter Twelve: _Dying Ashes

The pain didn't come. 

Voldemort stood still for several long seconds, savoring her ragged breaths, pushing closer to her trembling body. 

"Pity," he spat.

Her eyes, despite the objections of her better judgment, opened. His red gaze flared mere inches from hers, emitting all the intense heat of flames. Veins traced in his leathery temples swelling as if to burst, and the slit of his lips curled up like burning paper. 

Swallowing the heat rising in her throat, she wondered vaguely if this was the face Junia had seen, just before the end.

"I wish now I hadn't promised your pitiful lives to my Death Eaters. I would enjoy making you scream for mercy."

Barely conscious, she rolled her swollen tongue around her mouth, tracing the salt of blood dried inside her cheeks. It was Snape who squeezed her hand now, as if willing her to be strong. 

Voldemort's features contracted fiercely before swiping his wand from her neck and jabbing it into her torn shoulder. There was the distinct sound of ripping flesh.

She cried out, her knees buckling. Snape barely caught her before she collapsed.

Though the feeling in her arm had long begun to fade into numbness, the wood of Voldemort's wand prodded it back, white hot. She sucked the thick air through her teeth, trying to ignore the thought that much worse was to come.

"Are you okay?" Snape asked, fingering the wound delicately.

Her weak reply was drowned by Voldemort's derisive snort. 

"Oh, how touching," he drawled, stepping back to examine the two of them with amusement. "I do believe Severus is really in _love_." He gave a nasal laugh, clapping his spidery hands in mock delight. "Congratulations, my dear. I'll confess I imagined he was merely using you for your—baser functions." 

She swallowed another lump rising in her throat, a mixture of blood and bile. 

"You know, Miss Lee, you should be glad I've come to save you from him." He shifted his gaze to Snape now, and there was a flash between them, as if Snape already knew the words about to hiss from Voldemort's slit lips. The Potion Master's head lowered, heavy.

"Oh, yes…Have you told her, Severus, about your past trysts?" 

Snape didn't raise his eyes.

"Oh, yes, he's always had a –way—with women. At every revel he found himself a few. Usually redheads, like you, my dear."

Lili glanced up at Snape. All the beauty and strength she had observed earlier had withered, a flower now brown and wilted in Voldemort's tall, thin shadow.

"We'd find them used and gutted before the end of the night," Voldemort said, voice teetering on the edge of laughter. "He did so like to hear them scream, didn't you, Severus? To scream as you beat them, sliced them, humiliated and raped them…"

Lili's stomach roiled, and though each word stung, none of it hurt as much as Snape's refusal to deny it. 

_He's trying to hurt you, Lili. He's trying to hurt both of you, to turn you against each other before the end…_

But she knew, feeling Snape's arms slide away from her, that it must be true. 

For a few seconds she was merely stunned, attempting to drive away the horrible images and calm the resurrected wave of nausea squeezing in her gut. Part of her wanted to pull away, to look over the man she had convinced herself she loved and spit in his face. Had he intended to use her, as Voldemort suggested, for her 'baser functions?' Why, under his cloak of repentance and silent martyrdom, had he hid these things from her, not told her of such horrors wrought at his hands? 

_But he_ did_ tell you._

He told her he had been horrible in those years; a man unrecognizable. 

She reached out with her eyes and studied his down-turned gaze, tracing the tiny glittering of self-hatred.

She clenched her teeth. She didn't love Severus Snape the Death Eater. She loved this man; this man who no longer seemed able to love himself.

"Disgusting, isn't it, Miss Lee?" Voldemort growled, scowling at Snape as if the man was some manner of horrible beast. 

From the look in Snape's heavy eyes, he seemed to think himself no better.

"Yes, it is disgusting," Lili whispered, taking her eyes from Snape's and sliding them, hard, to Voldemort's. "Disgusting that you could think to turn me against him so easily. I know Severus—and I know _you_. You're nothing more than a vain bully who uses his drones to make up for an obvious lack of courage and power." She barely heard her own words over the frenzied beating in her ears.

Snape looked up, eyes wide, and she took his hand again, lacing his lean fingers in hers.

Voldemort seemed to consider this, releasing a brittle laught from the hissing hollow of his throat. He muttered a quick spell to petrify the two of them before turning, with a sneer, to Draco.

"And what do you think, young Malfoy?" he asked, waving a long hand flippantly. "Am I just a 'vain bully'?" 

Draco's silver eyes met Voldemort reverently. "No, my Lord."

The Dark Lord looked at Lili and Snape askance for a moment, and she immediately realized what was coming. 

He knew. He knew that Draco had been ready to let them go. He was twisting the knife in her—showing her how foolish her words had been.

He was nodding now, as if considering Draco's reply. The young wizard, though obviously trying to appear stalwart, betrayed the slightest twinge of guilt.

"Ahh, well enlighten me, then, young Malfoy, as to why, if you do not agree with these traitors, you were willing to let them go—to flatly disobey my direct instructions?" His voice was low, and Lili recognized it as the soft rasp that immediately preceded all things fierce and horrific.

Draco blanched. "My Lord—I—"

"Oh yes, Mister Malfoy," he snarled, advancing on the young wizard. "I heard every word spoken to Mister Potter here. It appears you, too, have chosen the wrong side."

Lili started to refute this, to insist that she had made it up and that Draco was ready to take them both prisoner, but she found her lips sealed tight by the petrification spell.

Draco was sweating now, swollen and bruised lips opening and closing in a frantic attempt to find some words to explain away the betrayal. "My Lord, you know that I—my family—"

Voldemort struck him, sending the young wizard flying to the ground, pale white cheek blooming with the dark of his own blood. As Draco spluttered, the Dark Lord laid a heavy, black boot onto his throat, pressing hard. 

"It appears my victorious followers will have _three_ rag dolls to tear open when this is finished," he hissed, grinding his heel, merciless. "I imagine your father will rather enjoy having a go at you. You've always been a disappointment to him, never able to meet even his lowest expectations. You've been a useless expense to us both for a _very long time_." He raised his foot and brought it down with great force on the boy's throat. Draco's breath wheezed, black bubbling from the corners of his mouth, and Lili was almost certain his windpipe had caved in. 

"You couldn't even show up this one," Voldemort finished, turning to meet the wizard who still groped his head as if blinded by pain. "Harry Potter."

Harry lowered his hand from his forehead, green eyes glowing with hate.

"Luckily, your life _does_ fall to me, Potter," he whispered, flicking his wand and petrifying Harry in the same way as Lili and Snape. "And this time, there is nothing standing between us."

Lili watched Harry's rigid body and wondered how the young wizard could remain so calm, his eyes fixed steadily on Voldemort's. 

"Your savior Dumbledore is dead, Potter," he continued, circling around the unmoving Harry, serpent eyes sliding up and down him in amusement. "And, in case you're still clinging to the hope that his sacrifice today will save you the way your mother's did, let me relieve you of such notions."

Lili's ears burned. She hadn't even considered this, though, now she understood Dumbledore's reasoning in going forward, unarmed. He had hoped to sacrifice himself to protect all those within the walls of Hogwarts. 

"I am no fool. I will not fall for the same trick twice." His mouth spread into a taut sneer, slit lips flattening into invisibility until the face that stared, inches from Harry's, appeared more beast than human. "I took very careful precautions to protect myself and my followers against the inherent magic of such a sacrifice. Oh yes, Mister Potter, there are plenty of ways to shield yourself even from such ancient magic…" His voice plummeted, and Lili felt it echoing through her thin skin, down her bones, in the deep chambers of her heart. "There is no hope for Hogwarts."

Despite her petrified state, she could feel several tears slide free, running hot, damp tracks down her cheek. 

So many had sacrificed so much. Junia, Dumbledore, Draco. She herself had lost years of her life, her freedom. 

All for nothing. 

She wanted desperately to close her eyes, but spell forced them open, burning with tears as she watched the Dark Lord raise his wand to meet the Harry's wide gaze.

"Oh, Mister Potter. I'm afraid I don't have any eloquent speeches to give you or threats to make this time." He paused and tapped the searing scar on the boy's forehead. "Only the same two little words your Mudblood mother heard from me..."

There was a loud spluttering, and Lili only now realized that Draco was dragging himself up from the ground, clutching at his throat. 

Voldemort turned to watch him, arching a thin, veined eyebrow, amused. 

Draco was on his feet, swaying, breaths coming in shuddering rasps. He took several stumbling steps forward, barely able to keep his balance. His eyes, however, focused loose on the Dark Lord's face, steady and threatening as steel. 

"I'm tired—of—I—hate—I—won't let you—"

Lili could barely understand the words that grated their way out of his injured throat.

"What wasss that?" Voldemort hissed, sneering impatiently at the pitiful looking wizard hunched before him.

"You'll—win—over—my—dead—"

The Dark Lord sighed and flicked his wand lazily. "As the gentleman desires." 

Lili couldn't hear over the sobs boiling in her frozen throat, but the flash of green light and Draco's limp body were enough for her to know what had been muttered.

She willed her gaze down to him, his motionless form drenched in the black of Voldemort's shadow. He was utterly still, gray eyes frozen, looking up into a sky obscured with fog. 

_He's gone_, her mind trembled, trying at once to both accept and deny it. All those days spent together, all the pranks, the words shared, the memories—this was their end.

_Better here than where you're going,_ she reminded herself. _Perhaps he was smart to provoke a quick death…_

He had been dismissed from Voldemort's side. He was dead. Gone. 

The words ran across the back of her eyes again and again, refusing to sink in. Her brain, like her arm, had grown numb.

Black blood ran down his face like tears.

Voldemort surveyed the body with less care. "Hnh," he snorted turning away and back to the petrified Potter. "Well, too bad for my Death Eaters. But I deserve a little fun, do I not?"  
  
Though his face was frozen, Lili spied in Harry's eyes a bewilderment, a shock that only comes after seeing a life dismissed with the unfeeling flick of a wand. Even seeing Draco fall limp was obviously causing him pain.

"And, speaking of fun…" The Dark Lord's wand was raised again, but this time he pressed it against Harry's neck, forcing the flaming red of his gaze down into the very depths of Harry's eyes. He stood close, surveying the emotion that, having no other outlet, boiled in the young wizard's green gaze. His satisfaction was that of a man appreciating a moment long enough to recount it for many years to come.

He smiled. "Goodbye, Potter."

It was over. _Dead in the dew._

His thin wand lifted, flicked—

Potter would die. 

She could hear, dull, as if in another world, the castle crumbling into dust.

_Avada—_

She tried again to close her eyes. She tried to feel Snape's hand rigid in hers, the cold ring pressed between them. 

_Kedavra—_

All for nothing. 

The green light flashed and swirled, shaking around Harry like a tempest. It seemed to press down on him, attempting to crush his thin body between strong emerald fingers. 

But he remained standing, and, suddenly, the green began to rewind itself, away from Harry, back up through Voldemort's wand and, slowly, rushing, up his hands, his arms, wrapping about his neck.

The Dark Lord's red eyes widened frantically, darting back and forth, watching the green as if it, like a snake, was surrounding and squeezing the breath from him. The earth began to quiver beneath her feet, and slowly, she realized what was happening.

A gold light traced thin lines first around the red eyes, then across the slit mouth. Threadlike cracks of shining light erupted across the seams of his thin, veined skin, and he screamed, dropping his wand and clutching at himself, trying to hold back the steadily increasing and apparently painful fractures of gold. 

The air around them puckered, bubbling in Lili's lungs and stuffing as thick as the fog in her mouth. An explosion roared through the air, and the Dark Lord exploded in a powerful beam of light that shot upwards, slicing through the fog and towards the red of the morning sky like a sword fresh from battle. Several trees around them came crashing to the earth, branches cracking and leaves flying up then sifting down like a green rain. 

A quiet wrapped around all the world as the battle froze, inhaling in a rush of white mist and a shiver of black earth.

The spells holding them evaporated as suddenly as the one who cast them, and both she and Snape crumpled to the ground, muscles weak from the frozen tension. Harry was writhing several feet away, crunched in the fetal position and cradling his head with a whimper. 

The silence seemed alive, watching and breathing against her skin. She lifted her head, trying to comprehend what was happening, trying to maintain her grip on consciousness. 

Her eyes met Draco's, still open and glassy. A trembling touch of his bloodied face confirmed her worst fears: he was long dead, cool skin slick with dew and blood, wide eyes dull like the morbid gray of dying ashes. "Draco…" The tears that had remained frozen in her eyes began to flow, sliding down her face and mixing in her mouth with the bitter fog.

That's what he was: the dying ashes of battle. The last remnants of a war that, it seemed, had met its end. 

Even if she had yet to understand how.

Snape's hand wrapped loose about her shoulder, and she wiped, trembling, at her cheeks, looking up at his solemn gaze. He was watching Draco too, brow furled, lips pressed tight shut.

"What—happened." She wasn't sure it was question: she merely found no other words able to tumble off her tongue. 

Snape reached out and pushed Draco's eyelids shut, long fingers lingering over the young wizard's rigid features for a short, sad moment. "Voldemort-- is dead." 

Dead.

Gone.

The idea grabbed her, shook her, strained the muscles around her heart. "He's dead."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Lili felt a distinct tingling in her torn left arm, and, rolling up her sleeve, saw the Dark Mark, glowing black. It had begun to bubble, then to fade. Her bones began to quiver within her and then, with a sharp stab and a sizzle, it dissolved completely, along with the skin beneath it. Her arm began to bleed anew, throbbing intensely.

But, despite the similar wound on his arm, Lili knew the tears in Snape's eyes weren't from pain. They fell, gentle down his sallow cheeks, trembling ever more freely to the earth, until she felt her own sobs shaking her bones.

It was gone. It lifted away, and, while it took her skin, it didn't take anything more. 

_It didn't take me. It didn't take him._

The thought sunk in dully at first then gripped at her heart, squeezing out even more violent tears. 

She was free. _They _were free. Her life seemed to have been breathed back through her lips, her heart shocked back into beating.

Snape merely watched the blood dripping into the crook of his elbow as a man watching his shackles fall away.

Harry's whimpering and heavy fumbling snapped her back into reality. The tousle-haired wizard, almost completely unscathed, looked over Draco, holding his head and wincing. 

"What—happened?" He asked dully, looking at Lili and Snape huddled together, holding their bleeding arms and leaning forward on their knees as if in benediction. "I—He said he'd taken precautions—"

"Against Dumbledore," Snape said, swallowing his emotion but refusing to meet Harry's face. "Not Draco."

Harry continued to cradle his head, rocking forward and looking over Draco through fresh tears.

Yes, Draco was dead, Lili thought bitterly. He didn't have a magical phoenix to cry tears on his wounds or a hat to offer him a magical sword. In the end, unlike the Boy Who Lived, he'd fallen, nothing and no one able or willing to save him. 

But, if Severus was right….

Harry fell forward, limp beside Draco, shaggy black hair mingling with long gold.

Shooting Lili a quick, confused glance, Snape crawled over to examine him, rolling him onto his back and feeling at his thin neck delicately. It was a gesture filled with more gentleness than Snape normally reserved for the Boy Who Lived.

_Again. Lived again._

"He's not dead," Snape sighed, leaning forward and moving the young wizard's hair aside to reveal the absence of a lightning-bolt scar. "He's just fainted. He had a lot of the Dark Lord in him, in that scar. We should get him to the castle." His face darkened. "If there's anything left of it."

Lili nodded, wondering if she could find the strength to stand.

"Your arm needs attention too. Can you make it?" 

She opened her mouth to answer, but the words choked in her throat. 

A sudden, overwhelming sadness gripped her heart and began swallowing her body in a cold wave. Her innards shivered as if tickled with ice, an encroaching sorrow smothering her. 

The sound of her own screams echoed through her mind. She could again see the face of the Dark Lord twisting over her, two Malfoys holding her firm while her skin bubbled to form the Dark Mark. Blinking, she could barely separate the horror of memory from reality…

Through the confusion of images, she saw the dark trees begin to move behind the fog.

_No. Not trees._ Dementors. At least twenty. Black shadows marching towards them, skeletal hands outstretched, forms fixed on her with a sharpness not diminished by a lack of visible eyes.

She was already wilting under their black, faceless gazes, but Snape was attempting, desperate and obviously fighting, to grab at Voldemort's abandoned wand.

"A Patronus—Sev—"

The heat of the fire and the sneers of the two Malfoys burned harder in her mind. The sound of her screaming seemed to echo from her brain into the hollow.

The last sight she saw was Snape collapsing, fingers inches from the wand.

The skin of her arm felt ready to peel away, her scream rending the white fog of the world in two. 

The darkness claimed her.


	14. Is Anything Impossible?

_Chapter Thirteen:_ Is Anything Impossible?

The darkness and the twisted walls seems to coil around her for miles, the heavy black ceiling closing over her like the lid of a coffin.

_There seem to be several instances of rule-breaking and tardiness here. Your academics, on the other hand, appear quite exemplary. Top of your class?_

Yes sir.

Your Potions marks are impressive.

Yes, um, it's my favorite subject, actually.

I see. Well perhaps you will be a more pleasant surprise than I'd anticipated, Ms. erm, Elizabeth Lee, is it?

Actually, sir, I go by Lili.

Lili?

"Lili?"

Her eyes continued to trace the sallow shadows of Snape's face, but it was no longer his voice that sounded off the dark walls.

"Lili? Can you hear me?"

The words pierced through the twisted shade of memory, and her eyes burst open, heart lurching as an oblivion of light wrapped about her cold skin like warm sun. Her brain stung, and she felt, for a shuddering moment, disembodied—mere spirit.

She couldn't remember where—he'd been asking her about Zhong Mo Xue—and then…

When she blinked again, she felt her own body extending around her, muscles and contours returning, tingling, to her control.

"Minerva! I think she's waking up!"

The voice hovered close now, a brown silhouette haloed in stabs of melting light. Testing to be certain of herself, she rolled her dry, swollen tongue along the roof of her mouth, scratching out a confused attempt at speech.

"Shh, my dear," the brown silhouette scolded, placing several cool, measuring fingers on her forehead. "Save your strength. Your body still has a good deal of healing to do."

The white light continued to drip away like melting snow, revealing beneath a familiar face.

"M—Madame Pomfrey."

The older witch pursed her lips, clearly disapproving such blatant disregard for her advice. She leaned forward and adjusted the pillow behind Lil's head, pushing a few strands of stray red hair in place. "Now, Miss Lee…"

Blinking, Lili looked about, trying to adjust her eyes. The gray floor about her was covered with the damp of dew, and it was no wonder as she quickly discovered several gaping fissures in the stone ceiling that arched high overhead. One of the paintings hanging near her bed was badly slashed, half the canvas hanging limp over the frame. The rest of the nearby paintings were empty of their subjects save one cheery, red-cheeked old woman who, perched on a neatly painted stump, gave Lili an encouraging thumbs-up on her recovery.

"The hospital wing?" she groaned, trying to prop herself up but meeting quite suddenly with a bone-deep pain. "Oww! Bloody hell!"

The jolly old woman lowered her enthustiastic thumbs and frowned deeply at such language.

Madame Pompfrey clucked her tongue as well, laying a gentle hand on Lili's shoulder and urging her back down to the bed. She held forward a tall glass of green liquid, glaring at Lili sternly. "Now lie down, _please,_ and drink this. I was able to repair all the damage to your arm, but it's going to smart for a few days. That potion should help with the pain."

Lili sniffed the liquid tentatively, wondering, should the potion taste as rancid as it smelled, if she wouldn't rather endure the pain.

But Madame Pomfrey's arched eyebrow brooked no objections, and she swallowed the liquid in one gulp, coughing and spluttering in disgust. 

"There now. Get some rest."

Lili, however, was completely awakened by the pain draught, and, wiping at her tongue in an attempt to remove the last remnants of unpleasant taste, attempted to sit up once more, this time cautiously using her right arm.

"Miss Lee!" the older witch objected again, knocking the empty glass down on the bedside table and shaking her head so vehemently Lili expected it to roll off her shoulders at any moment. "_Lie back_. You've lost a lot of blood and—"

But Lili was no longer listening, her eyes having drifted to the bed beside hers—or rather to the dark, thin figure lying in the bed beside hers.

The green liquid turned to solid stone in her stomach.

"Severus," she whispered, ignoring the pain and fatigue that soaked her body and stumbling up from her cot. His face was stitched, his arm bandaged, but he lie utterly still, skin almost the same ashen white as the sheet pulled up to his chest.

Madame Pomfrey inserted her considerable person between Lili and the inert Snape. "Miss Lee. Please lie back down. You are not—"

"But, Severus—" She attempted to sidestep the older witch unsuccessfully.

"He'll be _fine_, Miss Lee," the woman insisted, wrapping her hand firmly around Lili's arm and leading her back to the bed. Lili followed reluctantly, watching Snape close to confirm that he was, in fact, breathing. His chest rose and fell slowly, and relief pounded with the adrenaline in her heart.

She collapsed back onto the bed, her knees suddenly quite weak beneath her.

It all rushed back like ice water flooding her brain. The shadows sliding through white mist. Dumbledore, dead blue eyes shimmering with tears of dew. Draco and Voldemort and the huge explosion that shook the very earth.

She ripped up her robe sleeve, yanking down the bandage that wrapped her elbow.

_It wasn't a dream. It was real._

The Dark Mark was gone, replaced by a shining, jagged scar that seemed to stretch, thin and glistening, all the way up her arm.

_Yes. _Snape had cradled his arm, watching the black skull fade into blood…

And then clutching darkness. Dementors. She'd heard her own screams as she relived the moment the Mark had met her skin…

She laid back, feeling heavy, and met Madame Pomfrey's worried gaze.

"I'm afraid you and Professor Snape will have some rather nasty scars."

Lili swallowed, replacing the bandage carefully. _More scars than you know._

But it was over now. The battle hadn't been a dream: only the pain, and she had awoken from it into a warm bath of light.

"Is everything—okay?" She wasn't sure what answer she expected Madame Pomfrey to give to this, but no question seemed able to ask all the things she wanted, in that very moment, to know.

Madame Pomfrey turned away, busying herself with straightening the cluttered bedside table. "Well, I suppose that depends on your definition of 'okay.' Half the castle's in ruins. Both the Gryffindor Tower and the Astronomy Tower --as well as the entire eastern wing—are mere piles of stone. There were several student deaths: I think twenty-something in all. And—well, I'm afraid we lost Remus Lupin."

Madame Pomfrey listed several more casualties, but Lili found herself lost in thought, imagining how Lupin might have died, at whose hand.

_No, Lili. It was _all_ real. The good and the bad._

She bit her bottom lip hard. "And Draco Malfoy?"

Madame Pomfrey paused, the clinking of the bottles falling quiet enough for Lili to hear the older witch's deepened breaths. "He was long dead when we found him."

Her mind whirred quickly, groping for another question to distract her from this thought. "And—Harry? He fainted after—"

"Mister Potter is fine." 

It was not Madame Pomfrey who answered this time but the strident yet soft voice of Minerva McGonagall. She had appeared at the end of Lili's bed without either of them taking notice and now stood, looking down at Lili through eyes wreathed in bruises. "He regained consciousness several hours ago, fully recovered. He's just finished speaking with the Ministry officials and myself and, I believe, is off to see his wife to assure her he's in the best of health."

She rejected a rise of indignation at the wizard's quick and effortless recovery, stoppering the rising bile with more questions. "What about you, professor? You don't seem to have emerged unscathed yourself." She indicated McGonagall's battered face and bandaged knee.

The old witch pursed her lips in a small grin, her dark eyes twinkling in a way that reminded Lili, with a stab of sorrow, of her former headmaster. She noted only vaguely that McGonagall now wore the trappings of that position.

"I assure you, Miss Lee, I'm quite well. Just found myself on the wrong end of a rather nasty curse." Her eyes ceased their twinkling, shrink-wrapped in the dullness of memory. "Unfortunately, Remus caught rather the brunt of it."

Lili leaned back further in her bed, light that dripped from the ceiling sliding down her body as she settled. She wanted to sink back into the cool white mattress, low and soft, and have someone tell her good news: that everything was alright. 

Because it was, wasn't it? Lives had been lost, people had suffered, but in the end--

_You're alive, Lili.  You made it through, even from the edge of disaster…_

A jumble of joy and guilt overwhelmed her, and she couldn't tell whether such a thought brought her inutterable gratitude or unaccountable shame. She wondered how Harry Potter lived with it—being the one who lived.

Professor McGonagall bent with some difficulty and whispered something in Madame Pomfrey's ear. The witch nodded and scampered out of the ward, leaving Lili and the new headmistress to speak privately.

McGonagall stepped forward and sat with a groan on the edge of Lili's bed. She propped her wounded knee in a more comfortable position before letting her eyes rest, twinkling by solemn, on Lili.

"Miss Lee, Mister Potter has already told us a good deal of what he witnessed." She paused, pressing her lips gently, a habit Lili had noticed generally proceeded a discomforting question. "What—can you tell me?"

Lili's hands busied themselves with the frayed ends of her sheets. Was McGonagall, like Harry, suspicious of she and Snape? Surely, after what had happened…

But, she remembered dully, this was _not_ the end. The Ministry had told her at her trial that, in the event that Voldemort was defeated, her crimes would once again be brought against her in court. If she worked hard in the Ministry's service, she could hope that, when the trial came, her services would outweigh her crimes. 

And now, even free from the Mark—even alive after two years of uncertainty and torture—her fate was being weighed. Hers and Snape's. 

Professor McGonagall seemed to sense her sudden alarm and attempted another slight, twinkling smile, the deep lines of her face bunching in mounds and grooves of white flesh. "I assure you, Miss Lee: you and Professor Snape have the full confidence of myself and the Ministry. Mister Potter himself has seen fit to recommend the both of you for the Order of Merlin."

It was Lili's turn to be suspicious, watching the older witch's dark eyes carefully. _It can't be so easy_. After years of walking a tight wire, afraid as much of the Ministry's distrust as the Dark Lord's, she couldn't believe that all their doubts in herself and Snape could melt away as easily as that rotten, black bit of flesh.

_But if it_ is_ true…_

She knew what the Order would mean to him. She glanced over at his still, dark form, wishing to shake him awake and tell him everything: wishing, above all else, to see him smile.

"The Ministry has asked for you to report as soon as you have regained consciousness." McGonagall's old eyes sparkled wildly. "But I thought it might be best if you stayed here—both of you—to recover." The sparkling flitted only briefly to Professor Snape. "So, if you could tell me what you remember, I will pass it along in your stead."

Lili smiled. _And save me having to leave Severus here to go through the utter hell of reporting._ Though she was obviously in no state to deal with unyielding interrogation, McGonagall knew as well as she did that haggard appearance and healing wounds wouldn't make the Ministry hold their punches. 

Meeting the older witch's gaze, Lili was amazed as the gentleness she saw there and wondered just how long Dumbledore had been grooming her for this. 

"Well, I can tell you all I remember," Lili attempted, taking a deep breath and doing her best to clear her head so as to prod back into a mess of jumbled memories. "I—let's see—I ran into Draco, or actually, he ran into me. We argued for a while before Sev—" She stopped, wondering if Snape would think it appropriate for her to speak so casually of him with his colleagues. "Before Professor Snape showed up. He'd given me a Bleeding Heart, so we would know if either of us was in danger. Uh, he found me, and we talked with Draco some more." She paused, knowing how weak this next bit would likely seem to the one-time Gryffindor head.

"And then Draco tried to let Snape and I go. Out of—friendship."

Though Lili had paused, expecting questions here, Professor McGonagall merely nodded, urging her to continue. "There's nothing you can tell me about that young man that will surprise me anymore. Please, go on."

Lili took a deep, cool breath, trying to process this statement and push through the rest of the story as quickly and painlessly as possible. "That's when Harry came in. He was going to take Draco in, but Voldemort had followed him to us. He'd been there long enough to discover that Draco was willing to let us go, and so counted all three of us as traitors." She took another breath. "Voldemort petrified Professor Snape and myself and did the same to Harry, readying to kill him. But—" The breath shivered in her mouth. "Draco tried to stop him. –Then—Voldemort killed Draco, and tried to kill Harry. And he—the Dark Lord—he exploded…"

McGonagall was nodding still, and Lili stopped her remembering, hoping the older witch would offer some explanation for the Dark Lord's peculiar end.

She didn't oblige. "Yes, we all felt the tremor. I knew the battle must be over, one way or another."

Lili tensed, trying to sit up some and press the matter. "But—how? I mean Voldemort himself told us he'd protected himself against the ancient magic of sacrifice. That's why Dumbledore's—" She fell off, seeing the twinkle in McGongall's eyes waver.

"Yes," she sighed, shifting her injured knee slightly in seeming discomfort. "I'm afraid it was a gamble Albus lost. Voldemort had protected himself against the same kind of magic that Lily Potter defeated him with so many years ago." She swallowed, lifting her head as if attempting to lift her spirits. "But he had not, it seems, protected himself against another sort of ancient magic."

Lili furled her brow, urging the older witch forward with the flickering of her green eyes.

"You see, Miss Lee, there is a crucial difference between the sacrifice made by Lily Potter and the sacrifice of Draco Malfoy." She touched the paleness of Lili's face gently with her eyes. "Harry's mother saved Harry the way any mother would save her son: out of a love deep but inevitable. Mister Malfoy, on the other hand, gave his life to save his enemy. That sort of magic is as ancient and yet runs far deeper. Mister Malfoy's sacrifice was one that no one—not even the Dark Lord—could have prepared for. It was a sacrifice so powerful in fact, that it managed to do what Lily Potter didn't—to raze through the Dark Lord's very life."

The sunlight spread lightly over McGonagall's face, shadowing every line, brightening the pink of her lips.

Lili felt as though the same thin, warm light that filtered through the cracked ceiling above was filling her heart. Of course, she whispered to herself, thinking back to Draco, black blood dribbling from his lips, steely eyes crackling with dew, breath wheezing. 

_I'm tired—of—I—hate—I—won't let you—_

Swallowed in green light.

Of course. The sacrifice of a man for his enemy was perhaps the deepest, most powerful sacrifice imaginable. And Draco had done it. Probably not out of love—perhaps merely out of anger, disappointment, and hatred for the monsters he'd served and suffered. But it didn't matter: he'd saved them all.

"Mister Malfoy's body is lying in wait for official Ministry services. He's already been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class. Posthumously, of course."

Stinging tears framed her eyes in a haze. He might not be the boy who lived, in the end, he'd proven he was more. He wasn't just the boy who died, either. He was the boy who died to save every single person who'd called him evil or wicked or hopeless.

Her lips curled, trembling, into a damp smile. She brushed her eyes and cheeks, and looked up at McGonagall only to see the twinkling in the older witch's eyes had grown teary as well. "That boy. Never in a thousand ages would I have thought—_that_ boy—"

Lili blinked long, banishing the last of the tears. Her mind rolled his face across the her inner eyes, and she saw him the way she had seen him in the Slytherin common room three years earlier. 

_I never thought so either. _

But I should have …

And now everyone would know. It was everything he'd wanted. 

She met McGonagall's eyes again, trying to urge the other woman away from tears. Her heart already fluttered weakly from the wringing of emotion, and she wanted very much to steady it once again. "What about the Dementors? After the Dark Lord was gone, these Dementors just came swarming in around us. We couldn't cast a Patronus fast enough." She glanced over at Snape again, reassuring herself that things had, indeed, turned out okay. "What happened to the Dementors?"

The tears seemed, almost instantly, to evaporate from McGonagall's eyes, a smile again twisting across her cheeks. 

"I believe you have me to thank for that."

Lili recognized the voice as soon as it rapped against her ears. She pushed her head up higher, trying to find the body that matched.

Madame Pomfrey had reappeared, apparently with her visitor in tow. Professor McGonagall stood, grinning, and limped away from the bed so Olivia could take her place.

"Olivia?" Lili could barely manage, trying to sit up higher despite the smarting down her left side. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your ass," she said, reaching out and adjusting the pillow behind Lili. 

"What are you talking about?"

"It seems," Professor McGonagall interjected, "that Miss Birch here, though having some serious difficulties with the study of Auroring, can be quite impressive in the application of her knowledge when it comes down to it."

Lili's eyes darted back to Olivia, questioning. Olivia shrugged. "Who knew? But the department couldn't keep me away once I heard about you—and Snape."

Lili's lips shook in a grin.

"So I came with all the real Aurors," her roommate continued, brushing a strand of blonde behind her ear and shifting so as to extricate herself from the falling light. "They were pretty desperate for any one they could get. And I was doing just fine—well, okay, I wasn't doing much of anything really—until I ran across Lucius Malfoy."

Lili's eyes narrowed. She remembered in a flash how attentive the elder Malfoy had been to Olivia at the wedding ceremony a week earlier, and knew with a shudder how happy he must have been to run into the weakling would-be Auror on the battlefield.

"Apparently he thought it would be great fun to curse me and, as he put it, keep me as a 'toy' for later." She wiggled in disgust. "But, he learned the hard way. It's not nice to touch a girl without permission."

Lili and McGonagall exchanged smirks.

"I petrified him and was getting ready to bind him when the Dementors came," she continued, her own slender hands fiddling with the sheets as Lili had. Lili could tell the idea of the black ghosts still bothered her, causing her blue eyes to dart between the bed and her audience for a moment. "There must have been three or four of them. I managed—and for the first time in my life, I might add—to cast a pretty decent Patronus, but they wouldn't be deterred from food of some kind." She gave a small, furtive smile. "I'm afraid Mister Malfoy got rather a different kiss than he was hoping for."

_Well, there was one small bit of justice_, she thought to herself, not bothering to hide her happiness at the news.

"I really thought they would come for me next, but there was this tremendous shaking and they all just—stopped." She froze her hands in midair to illustrate. "Then they turned around and started off in another direction. So I followed them. They weren't interested in me anymore, but I could tell something had happened. They were letting out this kind of infernal screeching noise, like the sort of scream you'd imagine a dying bird would make. And then they entered this hollow, and they weren't the only ones. I think all the Dementors were making their way to that spot." Her blue eyes trembled across Lili. "That's when I saw you, you and Professor Snape, Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy—just lying there. I figured you were all dead, but I wasn't about to let the Dementors get your bodies."

Professor McGonagall laid a spotted, thin hand on Olivia's shoulder. "Yes, indeed. It was some Patronus: one of the most impressive I've ever seen. The Dementors scattered. Several of the other Aurors were able to round up most of them before they did any real damage. Very impressive."

Lili could only nod, mutely, still somewhat shocked that Olivia, the infamously dunderheaded Auror, had saved her life.

"I'll say it was impressive," Olivia agreed, grinning wide. "The Ministry has deigned to graduate me from Auror training immediately based on my 'excellent performance in the practical arena.' And they've awarded me the Order of Merlin, Second Class." 

Lili shook her head, then chuckled, then reached out and squeezed her roommate's hand in altering waves of shock and amusement. "Well, Olivia—I don't know what to say. I mean, thank you, of course. Thank you. And I'm sorry I ever underestimated you or your abilities."

"Well I'm a Gryffindor to the core, what can I say," she replied, rolling her eyes and squeezing Lili's hand in return. "Besides, it will all be worth it to see Snape's face when they tell him _I_ saved his life." Olivia's cheeks twisted with a wicked sneer, and Lili couldn't suppress a sudden laugh.

"He would probably have preferred to have the Dementors suck his soul out through his mouth."

Lili's heart lurched at the words. She pushed herself up fully, ignoring the insistent clucking of Madame Pomfrey.

Snape was sitting up now, surveying Olivia through beetle-black eyes. His face sunk heavy in a scowl, and he adjusted himself under the sheets with a foul-tempered grumble. "I suppose, Miss Birch, you expect some elaborate apology from me for all the years of torment I put you through and all the times I called you an incurable _nitwit_." 

Olivia didn't answer, looking a little caught off-guard by Snape's gruffness. 

"Well you can forget it," he growled, straightening himself and pushing his limp, greasy hair from his smirking face. "The fact that you've proven yourself an incurable and yet somehow quite lucky dunderhead changes nothing."

Olivia bit her lip. Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall were gaping at him in disbelief. 

Snape's eyes flitted over to Lili's. For a moment he pinned her with them quite savagely, sparking at her with every bit as much irritation as he reserved for his first-year Gryffindors. 

Then his lips cracked into a smile, eyes lightening until they seemed to shine like polished obsidian. 

"I will however thank you, Miss Birch, for saving your roommate. For that, I am in your debt."

Lili was out of her bed in second, feet and legs kicking free of their covers and arms flying out around Snape's thin, veiled neck. She didn't even notice the tears beginning to burn behind her eyes.

His body remained rigid beneath her embrace, his arms and legs stiffening as she pressed towards him. Realizing his discomfiture with such an open display, and trying to stifle her impatience and disappointment at this reaction, she pulled away, taking in a deep breath to feel his smell tickle again through her nose–spices now mixed with fermented dew. 

But he grabbed her, keeping her near. She felt his chuckle shake against her ear as he pressed her closer, deepening the embrace.

"Lili…" He barely whispered. 

When he finally allowed her to pull away, she couldn't believe the face staring back at hers. It was sallow, but free from lines. He looked, suddenly, like a young man, twenty years of sorrow and worry lifted like a mask, as if all the shadow had drained away as easily as the Mark on his arm. The only dark lingering on his face was the tiny black of stitches, and, when that faded, he would be whole again—himself. His eyes sparkled from some deep place within. She smiled and cried, not knowing what else to do.

He leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. 

The warmth of his skin, the piercing shade of his eyes, the softness of his breath tickling her mouth. She shuddered and melted, closing her eyes as if she thought she must be dreaming. 

_And I don't want to wake up…_

His lips withdrew from hers, warm and soft, and she looked up in embarrassment, suddenly quite aware that not only was her face undoubtedly flushed and her breaths ragged, but that they were being closely and unabashedly watched by three witches whose expressions betrayed their own amazement.

Snape's face hardened into that of the cruel Potion Master's once more, his chin raising slightly as he met the three pairs of eyes that watched then pretended not to have watched their kiss. He arched his eyebrow and, with a familiar frown, cleared his throat harshly. 

The three witches jumped to their feet and scurried away, Madame Pomfrey stopping mid-step, then turning back to place the curtains around his bed before she left.

She gave Lili a little wink and hurried out the door.

Lili allowed herself a quick wink back, stolen away from Snape's gaze. 

_And now that the peanut gallery's gone…_

She turned and leaned in towards him, eager for more of the soft warmth of his lips.

He stopped her, thin, lean fingers across her ready mouth. "Wait, Mis—Lili. There are a few things that must be said."

She sat back, barely keeping from groaning in frustration by gnawing on her already smarting tongue. What did he need to say? Hadn't he just said it all? 

But he hadn't told her anything. Only that, if they survived…

"Lili, I have to tell you." The smiles and bright eyes of not two seconds previous were gone, sunk back into his dark, guarded gaze. Though the lines and shadows had not returned to his face, he looked suddenly very frail, and Lili couldn't help but reach out for his hand. 

He pulled it away. "Lili, the things—the things Voldemort told you—about my past—about the other women—" He fell off, swallowing with a dry sigh. 

"Severus—"

"No, please. They're true, Lili. All that was true. I did horrible things, and there's no denying that just because Voldemort is gone and I'll be absolved of my crimes." He met her eyes, heavy, and she watched him caress her face—her cheeks, her lips, her chin—all without lifting a finger. "If, knowing those things, you'd rather not—be involved with me whatsoever—I wouldn't blame you. There are plenty of reasons you shouldn't want this—_this_. I'm old enough to be your father, for Merlin's sake. And I was ready to commit suicide and leave you. And—"

"And willing to sacrifice yourself to save me?" she interrupted, reaching out and taking his hand though he attempted, once again, to pull away. "Willing from the time you knew what had happened two years ago to do everything in your power to help save me? To teach me? To be my one companion?" She cradled his corded hand in hers, tracing the lines of his palm lightly. "Please, Severus. What we were before—both of us—let those people rest along with the other casualties of war." She shrugged. "And maybe you are too old for me. Maybe it won't work. Hell, maybe you'd like to explore all your options now that you're a swinging bachelor."

He snorted but allowed her a small smirk.

"But, I want--to try." She leaned forward and kissed his gaunt cheek lightly, pressing the hard bone with her tender lips.

Though she could not see his face, she felt his smile on her cheek. She laughed. "After all. Mountains are tall, rivers are long—"

Her voice choked in her throat as he grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her to him, pressing his own lips to her cheek, letting his kisses tickle up towards her ear. His breath was surprisingly cool as it twisted down her neck. "Is anything impossible?"

She sighed and brushed at his long hair with her fingers, feeling his skin close to hers. They embraced and kissed for a long while, both of them drizzled with gold light from above.

And, peering over the bed curtains, the painted old woman renewed her enthusiastic thumbs up.

**************************

A/N: Ahh! Last chapter? Is this the end?

Well, here's the answer: I don't know, actually. I have an epilogue written, one which I originally intended to include. However, upon re-reading (re-reading about a zillion times), I'm not sure if it shouldn't end here. However, this is my decision. I knew I'd agonize over this for a very long time and not get these chapters out before Feb like I promised, so, I'm giving these to you now. I'll make a decision about the epilogue soon, and if you want an email when I do so, let me know. I'll give it to anyone who wants to read it, but I just may not put it up as an "official" part of the story.

That being said, thanks to all of you who've read along through the adventures of Lili and Snape. I hope it was an entertaining experience: I've certainly had a good time writing these two stories, and, I like to flatter myself that I've improved my writing skills somewhat. I would love to enthusiastically thank EVERYONE who ever reviewed, or, hell, even those of you who didn't review but read along faithfully (I'm as guilty as anybody of reading and not reviewing, so…) I'm especially grateful to those of you who've offered me constructive crit, it's really been helpful, and I hope I've improved because of your suggestions. Here comes the beautiful list of those many people I have to thank:

1,000 karma points and big hugs to: Chisa, Fidelis Haven, Rosmerta, Snape's Slave, Fae, Iris C, faerie, candledot, Hecate, Elspeth, Cathy,  Gurl, Qe Too, potionsmaster, Ensis, faerie, Julischka, Norbert for President, Mariner, Aishiteru Duo, AntipodeanOpaleye, Arun, Arilla Riddle, Pyramidal-Apollo, Lilwhite, Theresa, Zebee, celithravien, and all those people who I might have accidentally left out! Also, thanks to those of you who reviewed anonomously on sites other than ff.net! I heartily recommend non-ff.net sites, especially those that allow NC-17. Support these places, people! 

As far as Lili/Snape, this is, I'm afraid, the end as far as fics go. There will be no sequel. I am, however, and have been, writing on new fics, because I absolutely have to be writing at all times, and, since I don't happen to have any well-developed original story ideas atm, fanfic will keep my skills developing. I only write Hp fics, and, more specifically, I only write Slyth fics, so you can be guaranteed the next story will be along those lines. I'm toying with a couple of ideas right now, and, if you want, I'll let you know when they get posted. :o) I hope you'll all come along with me into new adventures…

This has been great fun, guys, thanks again. As always, please leave reviews, and let me know what you thought! 

Cheers! 

Not British, but loving that expression,

Kite


	15. Epilogue

A/N: Due to the fact that, of recent, I have had several people email me asking for the epilogue, I've decided to put it up here. I don't want it to be technically considered part of the story, but it is here for fun. Well, sort of fun. It's a bit of a downer compared to the real ending…

Hope everyone enjoys. Tell me what you think, as always. 

And yes, the story became AU as of the release of OotP. Woot!

******************

__

Epilogue

The gray bones of Malfoy Manor curved up from the dead grass, untrimmed vines and shrubs worming through every crack as if prepared to strangle the stone like a serpent. As they approached the once grand front stoop, no line of houselves scurried out. No one waited to lead them into the grand foyer with a flourish. The elaborate silver fixtures had been stripped from the door leaving bare wood and a single, well-worn knob.

Snape gave her a short, blunt look before knocking. Her own eyes remained riveted on the turrets that pushed towards the sky like emptied eggshells. She reached out, feeling coolness radiate from the stripped stone, uneasy.

"Lili, Professor Snape. I'm glad you came."

Dia was hunched slightly against the wooden frame, face obscured behind a sheer black veil. She was smaller than the last time Lili had seen her: the shining, gaudy gown of Mrs. Draco Malfoy abandoned for the thin cotton robes of a widow—a mere ghost of stately wealth. "Please, come in."

Snape's heavy-soled boots clicked obscenely as they entered, every loud step clamoring to the ceiling and spiraling back down like thunder.

The once grand furnishings of the foyer—paintings, statues, busts, and even the nicer marble balustrades—were conspicuously absent. Naked as it was, Lili felt she was entering a cave.

Dia's small sobs echoed.

"I'm sorry, I am—I'm still trying. There's been a lot of pressure, and I'm not getting much sleep—Please. I'm really very glad to see you."

Lili bit her lip and took Dia's hand as steadily as she could, the young witch's skin as cold as the stone walls. She opened her mouth, trying to find words of consolation, but none came.

"Where…?" Snape's voice was low and small.

Behind the veil, Dia's lips appeared to tighten, but she seemed somewhat relieved by Snape's insistence on the business at hand. "Of course. They're in the grand parlor. Follow me."

The corridors they entered were equally barren, monotony of stone broken only occasionally by a door or small window. 

"I assume the estate sale went through," Snape attempted after a few seconds of Dia's sniffling silence. His low voice was almost inaudible over the clicking of his boots.

"Yes," Dia sniffed, glancing up at the exposed walls. "I was able to sell it to a Muggle family. They'll be moving in next week, I hope."

Snape's eyes flickered to Lili's, and she knew he was thinking it too.

__

The ultimate irony. Muggles—living, breathing, eating all over Malfoy Manor. 

One final bitter piece of justice. She stifled her smile between pressed lips, hoping that, wherever Lucius Malfoy was, he would see this come to pass.

"I sold the last of the things at auction yesterday at Diagon Alley. I must have raised well over 200 million Galleons." Dia's voice was flat, emotionless.

She swallowed. "You should keep some of it, Dia." Just a week earlier, Dia had announced that all the Malfoy fortune—assets and money from the estate sale—would go to Hogwarts to facilitate the massive repairs necessary before the castle could be re-opened at the quickly approaching start of term. Headmaster McGonagall, in return, had promised to rebuild Gryffindor Tower in Draco's name—Dragon's Tower-- and to place a statue of him in the main entrance hall, just beside the newly erected memorial to Albus Dumbledore. "Keep something to, you know, help you back on your feet."

"No, no," Dia said, black veil revealing a sliver of her drained pink lips. "I've had enough of money for a very, very long time."

Lili nodded, considering this for a moment. "So where will you be living after next week then?"

She shrugged and managed a self-effacing laugh as they turned the corner into another wide, shadowed hall. "Who knows? Knockturn Alley? I mean, my family has long since disowned me—as soon as things got serious with Draco, really." Her voice dropped. "I don't even know that I'd want to see them again anyway."

Lili watched Dia's pale lips sink, her own fingers finding their way to a small, folded paper in her pocket.

She understood the strange tearing of affections. Her own father had sent her a letter several days after she Snape had been publicly awarded the Order of Merlin. He wanted to see her again. He thought it was time to reconnect, to rebuild the bridges he had burned.

That had been a month and half ago; the letter was still folded in her robe pocket, unanswered.

She removed her fingers from the paper, pushing the thoughts aside in favor of more relevant ones. "You know, my roommate Olivia is going to need a new roommate when I move out in a couple of weeks. It's not too glamorous, but I think you'd like her company."

Dia stopped walking for a moment, and the clacking of Snape's boots halted just as quickly. The black-clad witch seemed to consider this for only a short moment before raising her shadowed eyes to Lili and continuing on her way, pace quickened. "Actually, that sounds lovely. I think I might just take you up on that."

Lili smiled. "And, if you're there, I can come and visit the two of you all the time. Or you can come visit us." She didn't look at Snape to gauge his reaction at being offered up as a host—or as part of a first person plural pronoun.

"Oh, that's right," Dia sighed, letting go of Lili's hand and swinging open the doors that led through an antechamber into the grand parlor. "I forgot Hogwarts has a new Potions Mistress." She tilted her veiled face up towards Snape's. "And a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as well."

Lili wasn't listening, letting Dia's voice mix with the echo of Snape's mumbled reply. Instead her eyes filtered through this room where she had sat, shivering in the firelight, waiting for it all to begin. The hearth was dead gray now, the chair she'd curled close in, absent. It seemed like the abandoned set of a play, stripped of its reality, a mockery of the fearful box it had once seemed...

By the time her mind floated back to her companion, Dia, too, had fallen silent, her gaze flickering to the wooden beam that hung thick above the parlor doors. She seemed lost in her own sorrowful thoughts. 

But, examining the beam more closely, Lili realized what it must be. It bent down slightly, and a thin ring had been roughly wrung about its center.

The Ministry officials had found Narcissa a month earlier, hanging from the rafters, her husband's photo crunched in her stiff hand. The story never quite made the papers, and the name Narcissa Malfoy simply faded from the polite society of which she had once called herself queen.

Dia seemed to drift back again, pushing her veil away from her face, red-rimmed eyes riveted on the distressed beam. "Wouldn't even come to Draco's funeral," she mumbled absently before replacing the veil and sliding back into motion. "Come on. They're in here." 

The grand parlor was as naked as the rest, marble fireplace clean swept and empty, like a mouth frozen in the midst of a scream. It was as dead as the wizards and witches who'd hidden in it, the ghosts that now only haunted her memory. She let her fingers reach out, gingerly touching the marble, shuddering at the familiarity of the contact.

__

I won. Damn you all, I won.

She barely suppressed the urge to spit across the cool marble filigrees and cast as exploding charm at the barren stones.

"All the things I'm keeping are in these stacks here." Dia said, approaching a few small, unassuming piles of bric-a-brac in the far corner. Lili glanced across the items, curious as to what Dia wanted to save. Many of the things were those she'd brought with her to Manor in the first place, or things she'd bought or had bought for her while there: clothes, small pieces of furniture, a few books and supplies. And there, sitting on a pedestal among those prosaic objects, was a beautiful green urn wreathed in intricately inlaid silver dragons. At the urn's edges, the dragons' long, sinuous tails formed arching handles.

Lili pressed her tongue hard against the roof of her mouth, noting Draco's elaborate gold medals arranged around the urn's base. She knew at once what lay within the urn.

"Thank your friend again for the vase," Dia said from somewhere behind her. "It was perfect, really."

Lili vaguely remembered Xiao Ke mentioning a gift she'd sent "the Malfoy widow." 

Lili had sent nothing.

Her hands lifted to brush some dust from the most prominent of the gold medals. She read the words to herself, lips barely parting and closing with the letters. _Order of Merlin, First Class: for outstanding service to the wizarding community—_

She stopped, a faint smile tugging her cheeks.

Si hui fu ran. – Dead ashes burn again.

She brushed the silver dragons gently with her fingertips.

"Ahh, here. These are yours."

Both she and Snape turned to watch Dia pull items from among the mess.

"These are a number of books I thought might interest you, Professor Snape. I took the liberty of removing them from the library before the other books were sold. I'm told they're all quite rare."

Snape flipped through the box of books, cradling each one as it were a treasure. "Miss Morrighan—I can't accept these. Some are worth thousands of Galleons singly, not to mention as parts of entire sets." 

"Then sell them," Dia said, shrugging, and returning to her rummaging. "They're yours now, Professor. You should get something more for all you did, and, after all, the Malfoys are generously footing the bill."

Snape allowed himself a small smile, letting his fingers slide through the yellow pages of a particularly thick, old tome.

"And, Lili," Dia continued, allowing herself only a short, satisfied smirk at Snape's reaction. "Here's part of yours." She pulled out a small, tattered box and offered it up from her seat on the floor. Lili took it, noting the edges of the lid frayed brown and white from frequent opening.

"I found it when I was going through his things," she said, still rifling through the stack of miscellaneous items. "He always kept it in the bottom of this dresser. Have a look."

Reluctantly, she tugged at the lid, wrenching it off in a dusty puff.

She sank to the floor, cradling the box in her lap.

On the very top was a small black seed-like object, and it took her a moment to place it. But, squeezing it between her thumb and forefinger, she recognized it immediately. "Suan mei," she whispered, grinning. "I can't believe he saved this." He'd taken them quite often in an effort to bribe Artibius into liking him, and somewhere along the way, he must have saved one.

Dia smiled, glancing up only briefly. 

The rest of the box was filled with pictures they'd taken over that year. One she'd taken of him on the Quidditch field, zooming after the snitch. One Mishal Chamcha had taken of them dancing at the Yule Ball. One of the two of them, Dia, Crabbe, Goyle, and Milicent, and standing in a line making very queer faces. And one he'd taken of her sitting in the Slytherin common room, heavy potions text resting on her legs. 

In every picture, the figures moved, dancing between the picture edges as if caught, happily, in a single, wonderful moment.

She paused, watching him wave up at her, smiling, from the grand balcony of the Manor. He was reclined beside his broom, blue-gray eyes bright with winter light. 

She replaced the box lid, leaning back absently against the cold of the fireplace, lost in memory.

"Oh, here," Dia exclaimed, pulling a long hanging bag forward and laying it across the floor carefully. She tugged at the rusty zipper, slowly revealing a cascade of musty yet still shimmering green silk. "I thought you might want this back as well."

Lili reached out and, heart fluttering, pulled the dress from its bag, green and silver falling over her hands and dusting across the thick carpet. 

The dress. Her dress from the Yule Ball. She'd all but forgotten it after that Christmas. 

"I don't know why it was here," Dia mumbled, standing and brushing some of the dust from her black robes. "I found it in one of the storage rooms along with some other clothes."

Lili ran her fingers down one of the sparkling seams, remembering how difficult it had been to leave the dress behind. "I left it here after that Christmas, along with all the clothes the Malfoys gave me. I was too afraid to take them, and I—somehow I guess I thought if I left their presents behind they'd understand that--"

She swallowed. _That I didn't want what they had given me. In more ways than one…_

She placed it back in the hanging bag, pulling the zipper over the shimmering fabric with all the solemnity of closing a coffin.

"Well, all that's over now," Dia sighed. "And it survived, just like you."

Lili smiled, lifting the bag carefully and hoisting the box under her arm as she stood. It seemed like so long ago that she'd seen that dress draped on her bed. It had seemed like a miracle: it had really been the beginning of a curse. 

She would take it home and bury it in her closet: lay it low just as she had the other ghosts of her past…

Or maybe she would wear it again some day, when she was ready to reclaim those memories without fear or anger.

Dia pushed her veil aside, meeting Lili's eyes with a pressed smile. "It's good to see you." She wiped at her nose and nodded over at Snape as well. "Both of you."

Snape cradled the box of books and was looking rather eager to leave.

Lili couldn't blame him. The cold and the dust and the thick, sorrow-soaked air were beginning to burn in her throat. 

"Well--now, if you two will excuse me," Dia sighed heavily, "I need to finish my packing and take care of all the final estate preparations."

Lili straightened her face, afraid her discomfort had shown through.

"No, don't worry. I understand how you feel. This house—it's rather like a tomb, isn't it? I can't wait to get out myself." Dia's swollen eyes fluttered. "Draco and I always talked about leaving. I guess we got our wish." The thin, sickly light that managed to filter through ivy-smothered windows had inched its way to Dia's pale face, raking across her dark eyes like glowing tears.

"I trust you can find your way out again?" 

Lili swallowed, watching the light rise and fall across the pale witch's face, wondering how her friend could handle all this: so much loss and pain, rising like a flood up to her neck. 

"Yes, thank you."

She had the sudden urge to grab Dia and shake her until, from beneath the black cloaks and the thick, heavy frown, the old Dia could break free and smile; could follow them out the front door and never turn back to the tomb she'd let herself be buried in.

But Lili knew that Dia was gone, just like the Lili she'd been was gone. Life had kicked them about, pummeled their tender hearts. 

She wanted to lean forward and hug Dia, to tell her that things would be fine. That she could come live with Olivia and that, together, they would, eventually, be happy.

Instead she merely followed Snape from the room, affording Dia only a quick, thoughtful glance as she disappeared down the opposite end of the hall, flanked by tall, naked stone.

The cold, thick air spread between them, an emptiness wrapped in bare slate.

*********************

The light breeze outside seemed so fresh and clear that Lili paused for a few seconds to let it tingle in her lungs and tickle her hair across her face.

Malfoy Manor remained at their backs, and she suddenly felt as if the whole world lie spread open before them, full of freedom and possibility. It was an exhilaration she hadn't felt since that moment in the hospital when Snape had embraced her fully and without hesitation. 

Now he merely turned and looked at her for a moment, lips quirked, halfway smiling. "Something wrong?"

She shrugged, and walked once more, feeling the heavy form of Malfoy Manor just over her shoulders. "I don't know. Something about seeing Dia, about seeing that place so—" She searched for a word.

"Pitiful?" he suggested.

"Yes, so—barren." She bit her lips, fighting the urge to turn and give the place one last glance. "I just can't help but wonder how we managed to survive. Or maybe why."

It was Snape's turn to shrug, glittering black eyes flitting from her face to the sky that lay blue and clear overhead, setting sun cracked on the horizon like an egg. "Who knows."

"I mean, I lived to see that place gutted and sold out, to see the Malfoy name fall…and rise." She grinned. "I lived to discover just how good a kisser my Potions Master is."

His eyes flashed for a moment. She knew he didn't like her reminding him of their age difference and of the fact that she had once been his student, but she couldn't resist.

Her gaze traveled of into the distance, watching the sky as if searching. "And then there's Dia, who's now living in that tomb only to be homeless in a few days. And who knows what will become of her, as broken up as she seems to be." 

The setting sun caused shadows to dribble up the ground, tickling her feet. 

"I don't know whether to be happy or sad sometimes."

The foul look on Snape's face faded, failing light revealing dark lines in the creases of his smile. "As soon as you figure it out, it'll be too late," he sighed, pulling his wand from his robes as they emerged through the iron gates and off the Malfoy grounds altogether. "But, it seems to me, if you're happy most of the time, you shouldn't think about it too much." His free hand reached down and grasped hers lightly. 

She grinned, twining her hands in his. 

__

Yes, she was happy.

Things had gone in a circle, she realized, watching the beginnings of night shadows swallow her ankles.

"So where do we go from here?" she asked, looking up to find Snape's pale faced turned down towards hers, watching.

He sniffed, nostrils of his hooked nose dilating slightly. "Well, actually, I was in the mood for a nice cup of tea. Café Midnight?"

It wasn't what she meant by the question: and of course, he knew that.

But small steps, perhaps. _They stumble who run fast_, he'd said once. And perhaps there was something to be said for a nice stroll in the twilight.

"Sounds wonderful," she sighed, pulling out her own wand, then pausing. "Wait, you realize Olivia's still working the night shift there. There's a good chance you won't get a 'nice cup of tea.'"

Snape's thin lips curled into a beautiful, devious smile. "Well, who knows, Lili. Mountains are tall, rivers are long: is anything impossible?"

Laughter echoing, they disappeared, leaving night to devour Malfoy Manor and all the shadows of the past.


End file.
